Take Two
by DailyStarGazer
Summary: Discovered in a local Starbucks, she gets a taste of fame. The bright lights, red carpet and even champagne. But did she make the right decision or is someone in her past keeping her tied to her childhood home? Will a short trip back to the place she grew up resurface old flames? Or is the fire already long gone?
1. Red Carpet

I see things from the other side that no one else gets to experience. I do things that teenage girls dream will become their reality. However, working on a movie set isn't always butterflies and sunshine.

My typical day starts at 2 am and runs for the next 18 hours. The only hot meal I'll receive is the one in my coffee cup from craft service; the one place you might find a happy crew member. Hollywood is the eye of the film industry and home to more than three-thousand celebrities. Although we drive mustangs, live in a million dollar palace and answer regularly to our full name, we are just like the middle class population.

We often enjoy barbecues on Saturday nights, high-fives and warm hugs. When the camera isn't rolling, you might find us at the local grocery story or even walking down Main Street. Our hands may cramp from signing autographs and our cheeks will ache from keeping a straight face all day, but once it's all over I remain Monica: a sister, an aunt, a daughter to a family. My name may be talked about throughout the world, but the only people who truly know me are those whom I can call my core friends and those who know how to keep a secret.

"Monica Geller, over here!" I turn my head slightly as the camera flashes "Monica Geller!"

The ropes are the only thing separating me from the crowd as I feel like I'm being shoved. Just when I feel like I could go into a full on crowd surf, Nick's hand finds my back, leading me to the awaiting vehicle.

"Monica Geller, when is the big day?" I hear someone shout but have no idea what they're talking about. If by _big day_ they mean my flight home, then tomorrow is that day.

I haven't seen my family in well over 5 years; or rather, since my career took off. As I'm ignoring cameras left and right on the big screen, my mother has gathered all my family members to watch my performance in her living room. I'd say she's proud of who I've become.

Focusing on staying my true self and not letting the big city lights change my personality is easier said than done. The red carpet entrance, campaign dinners and ball-gown formals are much different in person than what I watched growing up. It's a lot to take in coming from a small town outside of New York city.

I think it's about time I visit home again and remember who I once was before all of this publicity.

The car door slams behind me causing the voices to become muffled. The windows are tinted; only allowing my eyes to form the outlines of everyone on the streets. Their cameras continue to flash but I'm sure the film won't turn out...at least, not with me in it.

I've gotten use to all the publicity but it still manages to feel unreal. The starlight can bring out the worst in people, especially when you let it. Fame is just a job to some, while others, it's a chance to show everyone the person they've become.

As for me, I was just in the right place at the right time; at least, some would say that.

I wasn't discovered in the middle of a performance, nor was I spotted on the streets. In fact, acting was far from my mind. I never even dreamed of becoming a star. It just...happened.

I was discovered in a local Starbucks drinking my coffee on a regular Tuesday morning. Nothing was out of the ordinary around me, as I was engrossed in another book I happened to pick up that same day.

 _The sun wasn't shining, the birds were quiet, and everyone seemed to be hunking at the driver in front of them. It was the first day the rain had stopped in about week. You'd assume that would make someone happy but it seemed all of mankind woke up on the wrong side of the bed._

 _Except for one particular person._

 _"Hello, I'm Garrett Evans, I work for the Hollywood Film Industry in Northern California." My eyes slowly leave the page I was reading only to find someone standing before me "I'm here on business hoping to find a small town, young adult around 23-or so." He continues to talk as I glance around me. We have gathered the attention of the people sitting in this small café. Their soft whispers are muffled but their eyes are scanning Garrett Evans up and down. Clearly, no one was happy about this interruption in the peaceful environment._

 _His voice gets louder as my thoughts vanish "I want to give them the chance to make their big break and become a leading star in the next box office movie." He smiles "I was just enjoying my Cappuccino when I looked over and couldn't help but notice how stunning you look." He informs me, even though I never asked "Do you have time and maybe I can explain myself a little better?"_

 _I must have felt exactly how I looked. Stunned. Because I don't remember breathing in that particular moment. I could feel the room spin as the clock ticked by. I probably looked ill when his eyebrows shot up and he asked if I wanted some water._

 _Shaking my head, I finally spoke "I'm sorry, I just don't quite understand what you're getting at."_

 _He exhales deeply "Oh, thank God, you talk. It took you awhile to speak, I wasn't sure." He joked, sitting down and extending his hand toward me, causing me to let go of my book "I'm a Celebrity Manager for beginning stars in San Diego, Chicago, New York, Atlanta, Nashville...you name it. My job is to travel across the country and bring out new names to pop culture. Julia Rogers, James Franklin, Bob Downy Jr. I found all those stars pretty much in the same situation as you." He looks me up and down and I suddenly feel self-conscious._

 _"I'm sorry, I think you've got the wrong girl. I don't act-"_

 _"No worries." He cuts me off "There are professionals willing to teach you the basics. You think all these celebrities just so happen to be gorgeous? No. We find the goods and then we make a star out of them. Julia couldn't speak two words without it sounding like it came straight out of a script."_

 _Well, it kind of did._

 _Sighing, I try to stop my inner thoughts. "I thought you just gave them all makeovers?"_

 _He shakes his head "Makeovers aren't easy." He tells me. Like I put this look together in 5 minutes, trust me, I know it's not easy. "We find the beauties and then we teach them how to keep a straight face during a very serious situation."_

 _I grip my coffee with two hands "Wait." I exhale slowly and run my thumb over the top of my coffee lid "Are you trying to tell me that you want me to star in your movie?"_

 _"Exactly!" His hand bangs the table causing me to jump. "So what do you say..." He pauses and I wait "I'm sorry, I don't believe I caught your name?"_

 _"That's because I never said it." I say with an edge but his preppy smile never leaves._

 _"You're already perfect, the reporters are going to love you-" Again, he pauses waiting for my name to come to him._

 _"Monica." I fill in "Monica Geller."_

 _Nodding, he glances down at my coffee cup where the name is scribbled "We can work on that later."_

Although he came up with some pretty great screen names, I stuck hard to my original title. Besides, it's the name that makes you who you are.

I hear shouting coming from the paparazzi outside the car as the passenger door opens and closes a second later. "Sorry about that Ms. Geller." My bodyguard, Nick, apologizes.

"No worries, it's not your fault they have cameras." I brush off his apology.

He grins back at me before facing forward. Nick may be a heavy built man, but his personality is like a Buddha; you just wanna rub his tummy. "Oh, and Ms. Geller-"

"Nick." I raise my eyebrows, teasingly

He chuckles "Monica." I nod. Better. When people call me 'Ms. Geller' I feel like it's my turn to provide snacks at my 6 year old sons soccer game. I'd much rather be called Monica, and only Monica.

"It's Timothy's birthday tomorrow but I know your flight is at 9-"

"Nickolas, you better not miss that little boys 7th birthday party." I warn "I'll be fine getting to the airport by myself. Besides, if you don't show up, who do you suppose is going to give him my present?"

"You didn't." He shakes his head

"Of course I did! That little boy of yours gives the best hugs." I comment "If I didn't return the favor I wouldn't be able to live with myself." I say dramatically, putting my hand up to my temples and looking out the window. "It's a tough world out there." I sigh "Without his hugs I don't-" I stop myself unable to continue that thought "I don't even want to _think_ of a world without Timmy's hugs."

I get a chuckle out of my driver Pat (which is not an easy task) and I gasp "Patrick, is that a smile I see." I look up into the rear-view mirror and grin.

I can feel my phone begin to buzz inside my purse "This is why I love you guys." I search around trying to find the device "I don't know what I would do if Garrett Evans was still my manager. I'd probably be called Patricia or something..." Mumbling, I grab my lit-up phone from behind my wallet and glance down at the caller ID.

Sliding my thumb to the left, I accept the call. "Hey mom." I say, bringing it up to my ear. "No, not yet, but I will be."

When answering a call from your mother you better have at least an hour to spare. If anyone's mothers is like mine, they will continue to talk until someone has to pee.

However, this conversation is about me, so I don't mind listening.

My hands start to roam around inside my purse as she begins to talk about her plans when I arrive. "Oh..." I find my lip-gloss in my bag and push the cap off with two fingers before rubbing it against my bottom lip. Smacking my lips together I stop when she brings up a familiar name. I don't know if my heart dropped into my stomach by the mention of his name or the fact that we came to a red light and Pat basically slammed on the brakes.

"Chandler?" I question, confused why his name was coming up suddenly after all these years. "You talked to Chandler..." My hands stop what they are doing and I focus on what she is telling me.

I notice I have gathered the attention of the front seat when their heads quickly snap forward as I glance up at them.

"Mom-" She cuts me off and I sigh "Mo-" With her rambling on I can't seem to get two words out. So I just remain silent and continue what I was doing as I wait for her rant to finish.

Sometimes I wonder if my mother even listens to what I have to say before she goes on and invites everyone I once knew to a party that is only suppose to be close relatives. "Mother, just because we dated for a while doesn't make him family." Rolling my eyes her 20 questions begin "No, but I have a project at the beginning of October." I inform her "Because I have a life here-" I cup my forehead and close my eyes "That's not what I meant." I try to explain that she took that out of context but it sounds just like she told me.

Looking out the window my house comes into view. "Listen mom, I have to go, I'll call you when I'm about to take off." I start to gather my things back into my purse "Love you too, bye bye." Pressing the end button with an exhausted sigh, I smile up at Nick.

"Everything all right?" He asks

Nodding, I grip all my belongings in one hand and grab for the door handle "Just my mother, always trying to bud into my personal life." I smile softly before opening up the door "Thanks guys, I'll see you tomorrow Pat," I look over at Nick "My gift should arrive for Timmy at 11, tell him I said Happy Birthday."

"Will do, have a good one, Monica."

Sliding out of my leather seat, I slam the door behind me and walk towards the giant metal gate. Lifting the flap of the keypad I enter the code and wait as the doors slowly open. Turning around I wave goodnight a final time before Patrick drives off.

It's quiet most nights but it remains peaceful. Do I wish I had someone to talk to? Always. Yet, sometimes I wonder if this is what my life was meant to be like; alone at 27 and pursuing something so unbelievably amazing. Sometimes I wonder what would have happened if I hit snooze on my alarm and woke up a few minutes later? Or if I ran late and missed the subway into the city? Or even got stopped by one more traffic light? I would not have been in that Starbucks on that Tuesday morning reading the spectacular book, _Jane Eyre_. If I was never interrupted by Garrett Evans where would I be now?

I may not know exactly where I'd be at this particular moment, but I do know that I may be married to the most amazing man on the planet right now.

If only I didn't say yes.

Opening the little flap of my mailbox that is attached to my house, I grab all that is inside. Tucking it under my arm I dig out my keys and find the specific one that will unlock my front door.

It takes me awhile with all my things in hand but when hearing the lock click I sigh with relief knowing I can finally kick off these 3'' heels.

As my alarm begins to beep with warning, I walk over to enter the 5 digit pin. Sliding out of my shoes I toss them towards the door as I enter the last number and shut the flap, hiding the keyboard once again.

I didn't invest all my money into a huge mansion up on the hilltop. I couldn't do that; I needed neighbors to interact with. To hear the birds chirping each morning and a friendly hunk next door is something that gets me smiling. I love to watch as my neighbors cross the street to chat with those living by them. They discuss the morning paper as their little one pets the dog. I can't help but laugh as I hear the 4 year old giggle while the puppy licks the syrup off their sticky fingers from the breakfast they ate 20 minutes prier.

They know my work and the fame I've developed, but they continue to treat me as an equal. Which is something I am very grateful for.

With a small smile that I couldn't contain, I walked across the foyer and over to my answering machine that sat on a small table with a seashell lamp. This ugly lamp was given to me by my best friends as sort of a _good luck_ in show business.

It's hideous but I love memorabilia.

Pressing the button on my answering machine I finally grab the stack of mail that I placed under my arm before walking in the house.

Flipping through it, I listen as my brothers voice rings through my ears.

 _"Hey Mon, it's Ross, did you talk to mom? She's on her Labor Day Party Planning high, stay clear because she gets a little edgy when planning huge events. Which by the way, she is inviting everyone she comes in contact with. I tried to stop her but she already sent out the invitations..."_ I roll my eyes; typical mom. _"Anyway, I just thought I should warn you. See ya soon. Oh, and make sure to wear something nice coming off the plane there might be people at the house when you arrive; so ditch the sweatpants."_

Pressing the _delete_ button I stop all other messages and set my mail on the table. With an exhausted sigh, I move towards the kitchen cabinets in search of wine.

I could really go for a bubble bath right now.

* * *

AN:

Damn, this story was at 3,595 before I changed the ending...

So what do you say, am I continuing this story or is it too far fetched? I really hope you like it because I've already started writing the next chapter. AKA Chandler's POV!


	2. The History of Hats

The bells jingle at the end of my joker hat with every step I take. The multicolored fabric brings joy to the environment instead of the thoughts of a horror film. Although I may look silly wearing this hat as a grown adult, it's way better than a few others I've accumulated back in the day. The collection I've gathered remains on their hooks by the door as I continue to walk around without thinking about the hat head I've created.

I started collecting hats from the moment my grandfather bought me my first soda hat at the Mets World Series game back in 1986. It was the first time I've had an interest in something. As the other boys collected baseball cards and hot wheels, I spent my lawn-mowing money on the dusty old hats at the nearby thrift store.

Walking in, I would make a beeline straight to the back corner where they sat on a rack; occasionally, one would fall off and I'd take the time to wipe off any dirt it may have gathered since the last time I stepped foot into the shop.

No matter how many times I begged the manager to hold that special hat in the back for one more week as I collected a few more cents, he repeatedly told me _no_. Not that it really mattered, no one else had their eyes on the item. Every Sunday morning the rack of hats still remained in the far right corner of the old thrift store until the day it permanently flipped its sign to _closed_.

I loved my childhood. A lot of great memories traveling up and down the block on my bike to the shop that collected most of my allowance.

Stopping just at the end of the board, I began pacing back the other way. I've been walking along this map for at least 20 seconds as I watched their suspension rise. Their eyes followed mine, their smiles hurting my cheeks as I try to keep from laughing while their giggles break the silence.

If someone were to walk in right now they'd assume I wasn't doing my job. But the truth is I love to entertain, it's the only thing I'm good at. Just yelling out the answer and assigning material isn't how I work. They need to know that even _I_ get things wrong sometimes and it's okay. It takes practice and sooner or later it'll all make since. Not everyone is right and not everything is as easy as 1, 2, 3.

Which is why I'm continuing to pace a map of the United States searching for California.

Before things get too antsy, I stop and bring my pointer finger up. "Is this it?" I ask, landing on the state of Florida.

The tiny humans burst out laughing "Noooo!"

Squinting my eyes, I shake my head. "Are you sure?" I question, keeping them on their toes.

"Yessss..."

"Oh!" I smile, acting like I completely understand now "Then this must be California?" I point to another state.

"No, Mr. Bing, that's Texas." Miles informs me.

I chuckle and face my students. I can't believe how long I've come in the past 5 years.

I never would have dreamed of becoming a teacher when walking across the stage and grabbing hold of my bachelor's degree. The day I heard my name being called as I moved my tassel to the left side of my cap, I was ready to take on the marketing aspect of the world. Up until 2 years ago teaching never crossed my mind. In fact, there was only one thing that I knew I wanted to do. And that was to give back what was given to me.

I remember how my teachers had confidence in my future when I started to doubt myself; it's what helped me continue my education. They were there to steer me in the right direction when I was beginning to lose focus. For me, I saw school as a 7 hour walk through pouring down rain. It was hard and tedious. Education is important but I feel like the best years of my life were ruined by all-nighters followed by 5 a.m coffee runs in order to keep moving.

At the end of my four years of high school teaching was the last thing I expected my career to develop into. It wasn't until I was flipping through some old photo albums one night of my best friend Joey and I in primary school, that teaching even became a thought. I kept wondering _if_ my teachers _then_ taught me the valuable lessons I've learned in college, I would have more faith in myself. It was at that moment that I knew I wanted to be a middle school teacher. I wanted my students to leave my classroom with more confidence than they had walking in.

I wanted to teach young children that it's okay to be wrong and make mistakes. When you fall down, get back up and continue to keep trying. It doesn't matter how long it takes until you understand your mistake, as long as you don't give up you will succeed with more power than the day you started walking.

When I came across teaching I knew I had to go back to school and get my degree. I was a year into my courses and doing well as the summer rolled around. I had the love of my life under my arm and an amazing career in hands reach. I knew my future looked bright as I signed up for a few extra classes over the summer to get a jump start on the following semester.

However, all good things must come to an end.

I was elbow deep into my college classes during the summer when my heart got shattered. The one future that made my life worth living walked out on me.

I was in love with someone I knew I was going to marry one day. We talked about the future and what we both wanted. We even saved up for an apartment together when we felt it was time to take the next step.

The day she left I knew things were going to be different between us. It wasn't easy watching her go. But what struck me the most was watching her cry as she walked away. It was like she didn't want this but knew it was for the best.

However, I didn't see it as being best.

Knowing that there was not much to say that would turn everything back to where it once was, I watched her board the Red Eye straight out of my life.

While I stayed behind, she went to chase a dream.

I couldn't just drop everything. I've come so far, I wasn't going to throw it all away now. As I applied to a few local grade schools searching for the perfect job, Monica got the role of a lifetime and appeared on the cover of issued magazines across the country.

The day my phone rang, offering me an opening as a teachers aid, I knew it was only the beginning of my career to teach children as young as 5 years old the one feeling that kept me going. And that word is _belief._

Turning around I faced my 2nd grade class. "Who can show me where Monica is?"

And just like that 22 hands shot up.

I watched as they reached their fingers higher than their friend. Grunts escaped a few of them but I scanned right over every one of my confident students until I landed on a little girl sitting on the edge of the carpet with her hands resting quietly in her lap.

Zigzagging slowly through the pretzel styled army that I've created, I make my way towards her before bending down in a squatting position. "Emily, do you know where California is?"

She nods with a smile as she sits up straight.

"Do you think you can show me on the map?"

She nods again and unfolds her legs so she can stand up. I stay in a squatting position, my hands folded in front of me, as I watch her walk up to the map and point to the state on the far West side of the country.

"Very good, Em." I smile, standing up to give my knees a break. Walking back towards the board I exchange a high-five with my noble student as she makes her way back to her seat. With a calming sigh I look up at the face-clock hanging over the door as it ticks away with every passing second. "How about we have free time for the remaining 5 minutes of class?" I suggest which gets an ear piercing yell of excitement in return.

I remain in the front of the classroom as everyone jumps up and makes their way to the pile of games that are reserved for indoor recess or free time. It's only a few times a year that they get a chance to have recess inside. On the days it's either too cold or pouring down rain the kids will come back in the classroom after lunch and usually break out the game Sorry or UNO to keep them occupied. There have been a few times where they would walk in and spot me at my desk catching up on some grading. Assuming, since I am in the room, recess is canceled. Without arguing, they would go straight to their desk and dig out their Math books ready to start the next lesson.

Fortunately, I'm not that kind of a teacher. Cramming subjects without any breaks in between can be stressful and even exhausting. I try to provide at least 20 minutes each day for a little down time to reboot their momentum.

I love my job. These kids are what get me up in the morning and keeps me moving until dawn. They are my inspiration and what my whole world revolves around.

My career started off rocky but once I put on my hard helmet and greeted my first set of students it felt like I was where I was meant to be.

"Mr. Bing, do you want to play?" A few of my students look up at me with hopeful eyes, some of them nodding "Yeah!"

Smiling, I walk over to the craft covered table and take a seat. "Deal me in, Rugrat." I tease as I'm dealt 7 UNO cards. Glancing down at the 4 different colored cards in my hand I sigh contently before looking over at my desk. All three sides of that rusty old desk is now covered with colorful paintings and drawings that my students made as a welcome gift this year. I can honestly say I have never been more blessed. This is a class that I will never forget. They are my first official 2nd grade class and I hope that each group after them is just as excited about school as these kids are.

Playing my red 3 I remember that just over a year ago I had none of this. I didn't have my own classroom, no desk with a name plate. The only name I was referred to was "Mr.?" Always said with a question mark at the end and an unsure look in their eyes, like they weren't sure if it was okay that they just grabbed my attention.

Do I regret being a teachers aid at the start of my career? Of course not. It was a job that got me to where I am today.

 _My arms were crossed over my chest, as my heart raced. Melissa Peters, who taught the 5th grade, was about to lose all self-control._

 _Bringing my hand up to rub her back, I try to console her. She smiles thankful for the support and I nod before turning my attention towards the man that brought us all here._

 _"I know that everyone here is aware of the merger." He begins; his emotion visible to us all._

 _The whole staff was standing around the lounge, some sitting, while Mr. Brooks explained how next year only about 10 of us would be standing in this same spot._

 _We heard about the merger a few weeks ago; we all knew the possibilities of losing our jobs. The last few years, before I was even considered a teaches aid, students began to drop in number; causing the school to slowly decrease in size. With only a month and a half left of the year we were informed of what was going on behind closed doors. What we didn't know was that Tompkins Square Grade School was not the only middle school going through this rough patch._

 _John Ericsson, Hunter's Point and Tompkins Square are the three main grade schools in the community that are involved in this merger. These three schools have dropped classes, clubs and even a few sport teams in order to keep up with funds._

 _We didn't just need students, but we also needed the support from one another in order to keep our jobs and stay in business._

 _That thought is what brought the town council together to come up with the merging of three schools._

 _I've been working at Tompkins Square for only two months before we received the news. I was fresh out of college with little experience at the time. Right now I work as a teachers aid and walk around daily to make sure everyone understands what is going on. It's not the job I hoped for, but I know it will help me in the future. That is, if there is a future._

 _"With over 50 staff members between the three schools many of the hired teachers are unneeded. And in order to pick out those teachers that are the most qualified, we are asking all current teachers, Pre-K - 8th grade, to reapply for their job."_

 _I hear a few gasps, or grunts, I couldn't quite be sure; among the staff._

 _I felt an aching feeling in the pit of my stomach. The fact that I wasn't an actual teacher told me that I was already out of the job once the school year ended._

 _By the end of the meeting the tissue box was empty and there was not a single dry eye in the room. It was as if Bambi's father was shot and now no one was alive to help guide him away from trouble. He was on his own, except Thumper of course. But what good was a rabbit against a gun? I'm pretty sure the hunters will win this round._

 _I don't think I would ever let my kids watch that movie, too depressing._

 _"Chandler."_

 _My thoughts are broken when I look up to find no one but Mr. Brooks standing in front of me._

 _"I know this meeting may not qualify to you, but I want you to know that I believe you will be an exceptional teacher one day." He gives me a warm smile and I can't help but wonder why he won't consider me if he thinks I'm exceptional. "I can tell that you will change a lot of kids lives one day."_

 _I nod "Thank you, Sir."_

 _Shifting from one foot to the other, he continues "My brother-in-law is the principle over at Leman Manhattan Preparatory School off of Morris Street." He tells me "I'll be sure to get in a good word about you and see if I can get a job lined up for this coming Fall. I know he is looking for a new 2nd grade teacher because Mrs. Baker is retiring."_

 _The smile that forms on my face is genuine._

 _"What do you say, are you interested?"_

 _I nod, shake my head, remove my hands from my pockets...I don't know what to do. I'm unbelievably touched that he would do something so thoughtful for someone he's only known a couple months. "I would greatly appreciate that, I don't know how to thank you in a way that won't make my next reaction unprofessional." He chuckles before I lean in and give him a hug._

 _My day went from a balloon without any air in it to the top of the monkey-bars in two minutes._

 _The day I get my own desk I'll be sure to cover the rusty, old sides with colorful artwork. Even if I have to color them myself._

Luckily, I didn't.

My desk is covered with wonderful pictures my students drew for me since the day I held open the door with a wizards hat on. Some of them walked in calling me _different_ , but I took that as a compliment.

The bell rings and my students quickly put away their games before gathering their books and shoving them in their backpacks to bring home.

I stand in front of the door where I remain patiently to walk them out to their awaiting parents.

One by one they form a single file line facing me with their backpacks tight on their shoulders and empty lunch boxes in their hands. As the kids in the back start up a conversation about a possible sleepover this weekend, I start to lead my class out the doors and down the hall.

Passing the junior high students at their lockers, a few of the 2nd graders wave to their role models.

Locker doors slam one after the other while they rush out the main doors and to their guardians sitting in the car. Normally, I'd yell after them to not run in the hallway, but it's almost the weekend and I'm in a good mood.

"Mr. Bing, I see my mom." Little Rebecca informs me before hurrying down the steps and to her mother.

I have a fear -that I'm sure every parent has- of one of my kids getting into a strangers car or being lured away from a crowd. Which is why I have them stay together as a class at the top of the staircase until they spot their parents. And once they do, they must tell me before running off.

I've watched way too many 60 minute events where kids go missing after school.

"Alright, I'll see you tomorrow, Becca." I smile, giving her mother a friendly wave in the process.

Once all of my kids are safely in their guardians hands, I take off my joker hat and head back inside.

It's been a long day, but I loved every minute of it. I still have a stack of ungraded papers that need my attention and a hand full of phone calls to make. However, I put it off until I get home. I need to change out of my suit and tie and kick off my heavy Dockers Gordon dress shoes before I spend a couple hours deep into more work.

Placing all the paperwork inside my brief case, I set it down on top of my desk and walk over to a small metal cage sitting on the windowsill. Bending down so we are eye level with one another, I wiggle my nose just like him "What a day, Waffles." Watching as my bunny rabbit's whiskers move up and down with his rosy pink nose, I reach over and grab a treat off the shelf underneath him.

A class pet is something I always enjoyed as a kid. Taking turns and feeding the animal are duties all the kids look forward too. Occasionally, one of my students will bring in a special treat and ask to feed Waffles. To which I always allow; depending on the snack, that is. Their excitement lights up even my face as I watch Waffles nibble on the large vegetable sticking through the metal bars.

Smiling, I stand up straight and begin to close all the windows to the classroom.

Tomorrow is the start of a new day.

* * *

 _AN:_

 _I felt like I dragged on this chapter and made it longer than it needed to be. But hey! I posted and that's all that matters ;) I hope everyone enjoyed this chapter like a sunny day at the beach! I'd rather be at the beach right now than sitting in an un-air-conditioned house eating goldfish as my laptop heats up my legs..._

 _So these first two chapters were basically fillers to help get to know the characters. The next one is Monica's POV and a little bit shorter. I'll post it next week so feel free to review now until then ;)_

 _I love stories with a ton of detail so if you feel like at any time I'm loading up on WAY too much detail don't hesitate to review on that and I'll tone it down some. Sometimes it can get hard to read, but I've read through this a few times that it just comes natural to me now._


	3. Baggage Claim

_The Curbside_ , is the name it seems to be familiar with. No one enjoys this particular margin of the airport. It's a space you are placed with your luggage, the zone you say goodbye to loved ones and an area that is not afraid to call you out:

"You need to move your vehicle Sir, drive around you're forming a congestion." A traffic controller yelled out

It's loud as taxi drivers hunk to the person in front of them. Although it's against the law, cars still manage to stop in the middle of traffic just so their van of tourists can be unloaded in front of the door. Bumper to bumper traffic never seems to settle at LAX airport with hooligans like these behind the wheel. The fact that celebrities are constantly spotted in this general area does not tam the crowd very well, either. For as long as I can remember it has always been this hectic.

I can already spot the paparazzi lined up outside the building with their Tamron 150's on their shoulders. Before I can signal for Pat to drive forward he has already passed the gang and parallel parked along the curb.

I just want to be dropped off at the airport in peace; to not worry about what I'm wearing as people watch my every move. As hard as it my be to believe, I don't enjoy being bombarded while walking into a public bathroom.

Yes, there are times I wish I had never boarded the first flight to LA back in '98. Walking into Garrett Evans office and signing a two year contract is one of the many mistakes I've made.

But everyone makes mistakes, and sometimes mistakes are what you need to make in order to be the person you are today.

Aside from the mistakes I've made, there are many more moments where I enjoy the stardom I've created, none of which I regret. The thing I miss most since leaving home is not being able to see my family everyday. To tease my brother of his dinosaur collection, and make dinner with my mom are things I miss daily. But sooner or later we all grow up and our childhood home becomes just a memory. It's a temporary place to live before we can manage for ourselves.

I just wish I wasn't managing alone.

"You need some help, Mon?"

I must look like I'm struggling as I try to pull my suitcase out of the trunk.

"I've-" He doesn't let me finish before putting his hand over mine. Pat shows no sign of struggle as he lifts and hauls the bag out of the car and onto the sidewalk.

As I try to get my breath back, I put my hands on my hips and smile up at him "Such a gentleman." My tinted sunglasses block the bright sun that shines behind him "I'm sure Greg Ryan isn't getting this kind of service at JFK." I comment before sighing and making sure I have all my bags "I'm really going to miss you guys over there." I stretch out my arms to give my favorite driver a hug "Who is going to have my ice tea ready as I jump in the car?" I break away

"Your mother seems promising."

Chuckling, I grab the handle of my tall luggage next to me "My mother is a whole other story when it comes to the things I drink. Apparently, tea can give you kidney stones-"

He gasps "And you're still drinking it?"

Rolling my eyes I take my ticket from his hands that he generously held on for me. "Get in your car Patrick and drive away before one of these officials calls you out." I comment, teasingly.

Reaching up he shuts the door of his trunk "Alright, have a safe flight," He smiles "Don't forget to have fun, you're on vacation."

"I'd hardly call it a vacation..." I quickly say as he continues

"Enjoy whatever time you have off, I'll be here when you get back." He hugs me one last time before walking around to the drivers side. And just like that, I'm alone.

I pick up my bags, sling my purse over my shoulder and rest my small tote on top of my larger luggage. It may feel like I'm alone, but surely I am not.

Smiling, I pass my luggage over to the staff member waiting by the door. I love this service. It's calming knowing they will make sure my luggage gets on the same plane as me. I don't have to lug around a heavy bag for the next hour as I try to find the men wearing oversize earmuffs that will put my bag under the plane for me. Instead, I can relax by the bar and wait to board my flight with nothing but my carry-on beside me.

While I commenced towards security, I feel eyes on me. Like someone is watching my every move just as I make it.

Just when I thought I was paparazzi free, I hear their yelling.

Putting on my panama hat I try to hide my identity as I make my way through the gate. Unfortunately, I don't get very far when the gate agent takes my ticket and compares it with my ID.

"You're _the_ Monica Geller."

My head bobs up and down slowly. Please tell me no one overheard her. The smile I'm known for is barely showing as I try not to draw attention to myself. But I think it's a little too late for that. I can't believe I actually thought I could get all the way home without being noticed.

That was a dream that should have been left in bed.

"I'm a huge fan!" She exclaims "Where are you heading off to?"

I'm sure she can figure that information out if she glanced closer at my ticket but I tell her anyway "New York." I say as she hands me back my things.

"New York!"

Turning around I find a loud Greek family waving their tickets in the air. "Us too!"

Oh, boy.

I don't ask for attention. In fact, I don't like being singled out. There are times where I enjoy interacting with my fans and autographing right over my face as they shove their flyer right in my line of sight. Truth be told, I find it rather flattering that, out of all the celebrities, they keep an advertisement with my photo-shoot on the front of their binder. I don't mind if you want to take a photo with me, nor do I care that all the memory on your camera is overwritten as we create an album together. I love my fans and the interaction I have with them every day. But it would be nice if they didn't tell me about their mural of photos hanging on their bedroom wall.

But when the day is over - and I get to relax knowing their is no new tabloid of rumors out on a newsstand - I do enjoy my job. I love the people and everything they stand for. I even love those 3 a.m. wake-up calls about being nominated for a Peoples Choice Award. But am I happy? Well, I guess that's a question that is yet to have an answer.

Smiling, I grab my ID from the employee and walk through the gate with a "Thank you."

I hate flying. The turbulence and the fear of being hijacked are my biggest concerns when handing the sturdiest my boarding pass. Who's idea was it to levitate 75 tons of aluminum into the air with people on board?

It was a stupid idea, I'll tell you that. It's a stupid idea that makes commuting a hell of a lot easier, though.

Walking up to the security entrance I find it packed with frustrated families and their children that refuse to take off their shoes. Old couples during their retirement years struggle to make it pass the detector without grabbing a hold of something to keep their balance. Thankfully, there are security men on the other side with their arms stretched out ready to catch them if they fall.

On the other side of the airport I can hear that huge Greek family shouting as they try to gather everyone together for a picture.

I love big families. The mishaps and irritated siblings create a great story for dinner parties.

Smiling to myself, I step up in line.

When I get close enough that I can reach the belt, I begin to take off all of my loose items. I take off my hat and sunglasses and tuck my layers behind my ears. Bending down I slip off my flats and grab a bin to put all of my belongings in.

"I like your toes."

I glance down at my newly pedicured toes before looking up to find a little girl standing beside me. Smiling, I slowly bend down to her eye level where I come face to face with a gorgeous set of light brown eyes. "Thank you, I love your braids." I tell her and she forms a huge grin.

"Thank you." She politely responds to her compliment.

Oh my God, I want one. How can you not want a little girl with bows at the end of her pigtail braids? She is gorgeous from head to toe and I instantly get the thought of her breaking a million hearts when she grows.

"Are you gonna fly on the big plane too?"

I nod "I sure am."

"I'm scared. I don't think it'll be fun."

I swallow the lump in my throat. Where is this kids parents? I'm not sure how to console a child when I have doubts of my own. Doesn't she know not to talk to strangers? I could have drugs or be a prostitute. I most certainly am _not_ a prostitute with illegal drugs! But I'm pretty sure her parents don't know that.

"There's nothing to be nervous about." I try my best to reassure her "It will be fun! You get to see above all the cotton candy clouds." I smile for emphasis "And you can see in everyone's backyard, their pools and tiny houses..." She laughs, thinking it's funny.

"Do you think I will be able to see my home from way up high?" She grins with excitement

"Maybe? I shrug

"Alaina?"

Her mouth creates an "O" shape as her eyes widen. I assume that's her mother calling her name.

"Are you Alaina?" I ask, my face making that expression that tells her "I already know it is so there is no point for you to lie to me."

It's an expression that is very hard to master.

She looks guilty as she nods.

Standing up I try and search for a concerned mother throughout the crowd. It doesn't take me long to find a set of panicked eyes searching frantically just a few lines away. I can't imagine how frazzled she feels right now. Losing a child in the most terrorized location of a country can be a feeling of trauma in any mothers eyes. Surely every mother has lost a child before. Some I'm sure have lost every single one of their children, but it's never a numb feeling, your heart immediately shatters with fear.

My mother once lost me in a Wal-Mart to the point where they had to shut down the store. I was just 5 years young and my imaginable mind pretended the clothes racks were tree vines in the middle of the jungle as I zigzagged in and out of every single one. My mother lost track of me and reported that I was missing. Just seconds later my name was heard over the intercom. I watched from between the dresses as huge men with patches on their shoulders called out to me softly.

It only took me about 5 minutes to break out of my jungle gym and surrender. Thankfully, my mother was more relieved than angry.

Raising my hand I gather the woman's attention from across the crowd of travelers. Flashing a warm smile I point down beside me and I watch as her chest falls with relief. She holds the same face my mother did when she saw my figure emerge from around the corner. I remember looking up at the strong man beside me as he held my hand gently. He introduced himself as Officer Bart.

Officer Bart, a father of two, died in a house fire saving a little boy a month later. I attended his funeral three days after the tragedy; his bright blue eyes nowhere to be seen. It was my first time wearing all black. I was a child who loved color; the brighter the color, the happier I was. As my mother talked to the family and explained our relations to Mr. Bart, I found a little boy with burn marks on his arms sitting alone in the back of the room. Cautiously, I made my way towards him.

Sometimes I wonder what would have happened if Officer Bart didn't die? If he didn't save that little boy, Chandler Bing would not exist.

Looking down at the little girl I see her eyes still fixed on my painted toes.

"Do you like to paint your toenails?" I question and she just shrugs.

Bringing my purse to the front of me I dig around trying to look for a specific item. I know I put it in here somewhere.

Her mother reaches us and quickly gathers her daughter in her arms "I was so worried about you!" She exhales before inhaling her kids scent. "You can't run off, sweetheart. There could be bad people that would take you away..."

Thank God, this mother knows what she's talking about.

"I'm sorry." I hear Alaina apologize, her thumb nail finding her teeth before she bits down softly.

Got it.

I smile when pulling out the Flamingo Pink ink from my purse. Bending down slowly I come face to face with the angel once again. "Now..." I spin the nail polish around in my hand "If it's okay with you mom," I glance in her direction before looking back at Alaina, whose eyes are fixed on the pink polish in my hand "I think this color would look way better with your beautiful braids." I tell her

She gasps "I can have it?" She cautiously reaches out for the object before looking up at her mother for approval.

"We couldn't-"

"Please." I stop her, standing up before my knees give in "I have way more than I can count."

She smiles grateful before it slowly drops. "Oh my gosh..." Her eyes widen "You're-"

"Going to be late." I look away, handing the little girl her new, but used, nail polish. Bending down I whisper "Remember, cotton candy clouds." She laughs as I wink "Have a safe flight."

Her mothers mouth is still ajar as I slowly step forward in the line and away from the family of two.

The minute I'm through the detector my hat finds my head again. All I want right now is to be on my plane; to be relaxed in my seat and popping aspirin.

As I walk around I find an empty waiting chair along the giant window; or should I say my happy place for the next half hour. With a sigh I make my way towards the chair before plopping down on the cushion. And just like that, my phone rings.

Taking my purse off my shoulder where I placed it after security, I swing it around and onto my lap.

"Where are you..." I dig around and it's not until then that I realize I should probably get a bigger purse. One that has many pockets for bobby-pins and lip gloss. Oh, and it must be turquoise with a short adjustable strap where I can wear it longer if needed. It'll be perfect if it had a little clasp in the front and a small zipper in the back. One that won't get caught on the expensive coach material, of course.

My phone buzzes with a new message as the ringtone ends. When I pull out the cell I see that I've missed a call from my mother.

Quickly, I press redial before she gets further from the phone.

She probably just wants to check in and make sure I'm at the airport safely, but just in case she doesn't "sucker punch me" off guard and ask me to bring a pie, I should probably call back. Last time I didn't call back right away she assumed I was dead on the side of the road somewhere.

I'm pretty sure my mother has the Armed Forces on speed dial and the government highlighted in the phone book.

I love my family.

The phone rings a few times before she finally picks up, she was most likely on her way to the bathroom.

"Yeah, I'm at the airport..already went through security. Now I'm just waiting for my flight to be called for boarding." I tell her as I cross one leg over the other, my eyes roaming through the poor civilians still at baggage claim.

"Yeah, I'm dressed in something approachable." I roll my eyes "Why does it matter what shade my lipstick is?" I know where she wants to take this conversation and I'm about to hang up if she mentions him one more time.

Okay, I'll admit, I've thought about Chandler more than once this past week. He was my first love, the person I ran to for comfort. When I first arrived in California there wasn't anyone else I wanted to talk to besides Chandler. I wanted his arms around me again as his lips pressed against mine. It's a feeling that I've dreamed about for months after leaving New York.

I don't know what's going to happen when I see him after all these years.

My mothers voice comes back to focus and I listen as she mentions his name. "Mom, I'm sorry, but they are boarding my plane right now. I've gotta go." And without much of a goodbye, I hang up.

Sighing, I sit there staring at my phone as it goes black.

Do you think anyone will notice if I don't show up tomorrow?

* * *

 _AN:_

 _How many times can I use the word "I" in a sentence? Way to overuse that one, Rylee. Rereading this, I probably knocked out the word over 20 times. I really don't like how I wrote this chapter but whatever. I'm not rewriting this so..._


	4. Play Ball!

_AN:_

 _Have any of you seen Matthew Perry's movie Ron Clark? You can watch it full on Youtube. I just want to point out that in this chapter there is a rewrite of a scene from that movie that I just fell in love with and couldn't resist._

* * *

Kids have made up stories about this place. Is it a chamber where they keep the misbehaved or an area where they give out free ice cream as you jump in a pool full of squishy balls? Fortunately, it's neither nor; at least, _this_ teachers lounge is nothing of the sorts.

In fact, it's as big as a walk-in closet. The constantly stocked fridge sits in the corner where foam cups and a box of plastic silverware lay on top. A single counter top holds a 50 year old microwave that beeps four times no matter when you open the door to gather your heated food. The table sits seven but should only sit five as the chairs are lapping each other while pushed in. When everyone is on break at the same time it's hard to walk around as others are seated. Which is why I find it easier to heat up my leftovers and bring it back to my desk.

Thankfully, when I enter the lounge only one other teacher is in there. We exchange a small greeting as I move towards the fridge to get my lunch box I placed in there this morning. While some teachers bring a perfectly made sandwich, an apple, some chips and a water, my lunch only contains an orange and some leftover meatloaf my mother slipped in my bag of goodies a few days ago.

Breaking open the cold food, I leave it in the container as I place it in the microwave and press 1. It does it's own thing and begins heating it up for a minute while I reach above the fridge to grab a fork and knife. "How's your day going Cassandra?" I ask, while she sits there all alone grading last weeks test.

"Nothing to complain about." She smiles, glancing up for a split second before going back to her work.

I exchange the same expression and pull out my small flip phone "That's good." I comment, distracted as I see I received a miss call from my mother at 9 a.m.

Rolling my eyes I dial her number back and wait. She knows I'm teaching a class at 9, what is so important that she felt the need to call? The microwave beeps and I place the silverware in my mouth so I could grab my food with a free hand.

Hot! I pull my hand back and wave it in the air to quickly cool the stinging sensation. My mother's voice rings through the receiver and I mumble something incoherently to let her know I'm there. Grabbing a napkin from the table I cup it in my hand and try to get my lunch again.

"Chandler darling, you there? What are you doing?"

Setting the food on the counter I finally take the fork and knife from between my lips.

"Yeah Mom, I'm just making my lunch." I inform her, busy trying to prepare my meal with little time I have before I need to get my kids from recess.

"Did you hit all the food groups? You need to make sure you are eating your greens, Chandler. Don't forget about your salad." She says and I just nod along. It's a little too late to make a salad now.

"Yeah Mom, got it." I shake off her comment "Why did you call earlier? I was in class." I grab my orange and a water from the fridge before taking a seat at the table.

"Oh, yes!" She gasps, like she completely forgot what was so important three hours ago. "As you know the Geller's are having their annual Labor Day barbecue tomorrow." She starts "And I ran into Judy at the market," Her tone changes from high pitched to _I've got a juicy secret_ "And of course she had to invite me. You did date her only daughter after all. What was it, like two yea-"

"Where are you going with this?"

"Well, I just think it'll be nice of you to show up."

Sighing, I put down my fork and grab a napkin "I can't, I have so much going on. I need to catch up on grading-"

"You catch up on grading every week, Dear. Stop handing out so much work."

Ignoring her, I continue "I have PTA meetings tonight and I still need to call around to find two more chaperons for Tuesday's trip. I'm booked." I tell her "Sorry, I'm not going to be able to make it."

There is a pause on the other end of the receiver and I think I've finally got it through her head that Saturday I won't be attending the party.

Her voice is low as she speaks "I've already marked you as my _plus one_ on the invitation." She mutters and I throw my head back in frustration.

There are things mothers do that no one will understand. I get that she wants me to be happy, but I am happy. I have an amazing job, a great apartment, friends that love me, what more could I ask for? Okay, so a girlfriend would be nice. But she's not necessary to accomplish my needs. I can manage just fine without a girl in my life. I do my own laundry and make my own dinners without one. Although sometimes I forget to separate my whites before throwing clothes into the washer and most days it takes hours before my dinner is cooked all the way through... Okay, maybe I do need Monica back in my life.

"I knew it." I can hear my mother gasp on the other end "I'll pick you up at 2." She informs me before hanging up.

My heart stops and my mind is running. I didn't just say that out loud. Now she will never let it go.

I was in love with Monica the day she broke my heart. Who doesn't fall in love with the women that turns down all the star football players for the geek? No one, that's who.

I am not looking forward to this party. Then again, it's not like Monica is going to be there, so what's the harm in going?

As I finish my lunch the only thing I can think about is tomorrow's barbecue. I shouldn't be worried, I've talked to the Geller's since Monica and I broke things off and nothing felt awkward. I did however feel like I was betraying Monica by keeping in contact with her family without her knowledge. But who else had a truck that could help Mr. Geller carry supplies for his new deck?

I like to think of it as smoking. It doesn't quite feel right inhaling, but once you exhale that aching feeling disappears.

What did I do last year to get through this aching feeling when they invited me personally to their barbecue but I declined? Nothing about this feels right. Maybe I'll call Joey and see what he's doing tomorrow night to get out of this barbecue.

Putting my dishes back in my reusable lunch box, I throw away the orange peal and head towards the cafeteria. I need to pick up something before grabbing my class from the playground outside.

Their eyes glance over my desk filled with nothing but chocolate milk cartons.

"Mr. Bing, what are we going to do with all the milk?" James raises his hand asking the question they were all wondering.

"Well," I circle my desk so I'm standing directly in front of them "We are going to play a little game."

Their faces form smiles at the idea. I've hit their weak spot.

"It involves Math." I finish and just like that their smiles drop almost immediately.

Math is their weakest subject and the results of last weeks test weren't the best. Being in the 2nd grade and having so much ahead of them it's only going to get harder; if they are struggling now, it's going to be even uglier next year.

Learning isn't the most entertaining thing to do and repetition doesn't work. Games are what make it easier to remember as they get involved with hands-on activities.

Walking around the class I look at all my students as I explain what is going to happen. "I'm going to write some questions on the board and for every answer you get correct, Mr. Bing will drink one carton of chocolate milk." I tell them, getting a few laughs in response. "If all the milk is off my desk before the final bell rings then Tuesday you don't have to wear your uniforms on the field trip."

Since there are parent teacher conferences tonight the students get out at 1:30 instead of 3 p.m. like any other day. With most of their parents still fighting their full-time job, I have a little over an hour before they start arriving. It's usually during that time that I get all their forms and information I want to go over, together and ready.

Heading back towards the board I grab a piece of chalk and begin the lesson. "Alright, lets start off simple." Drawing a decent size circle on the board I start from the top and fill in the numbers 1-12. "There are two lines on a face clock called _hands._ " I continue to draw the clock "Can anyone tell me what those two hands represent?" I finish and turn to look for raised hands. "Yes, Miles." I point with my chalk

"The minute and hours." He tells me nonchalant

"You are absolutely right. But do you know which is which?"

He slouches back, defeated.

But the war isn't over as Rebecca's hand creeps up.

"Bec?" I ask, hopeful

"The small hand is the hours...and the longer one is the minutes?" I can tell she isn't quite sure but my smile reassures her doubts.

"Very good!" I set down the chalk and walk over to open my first carton of milk. Without any struggle, I guzzle down the container to the last drop before slamming it back down on the desk top. Sighing I turn back to my board "Alright, next question."

Nearly an hour goes by and the board is covered with previous questions and answers as I begin to empty my pockets. Most of the milk cartons are empty, with a few drops here and there. I pull out two nickles, four pennies, and a quarter while announcing it to the class. "How much cents do I have?" I ask, giving them time to count it all up.

One by one hands go up as they finish calculating on their scratch piece of paper. "Shamika?"

"39." She says, confident in her answer as others nod along.

And just like that I'm chugging another.

"Come on, Mr. Bing!" They cheer me on "Go, go, go, go..."

I stop suddenly and hold my stomach as they all go "Ohh..." Bringing the carton away from my lips my cheeks puff out and I think I'm going to be sick. Slowly, I take a step forward "AHHH..." They lean back, knowing what might happen. Taking a short breath, I relax before feeling that aching pain in the pit of my stomach once again.

This can't be good.

Walking through the center aisle of desk, I continue to hold my stomach just praying it all settles down.

"He's going to be sick." One yells and I take another step.

"Blah!" I hunch over and they all burst out laughing as I come up smiling.

It's Friday, a day you look forward to once Sunday ends and Monday begins. It's the last day of the week before your weekend comes. But once that final bell rings I don't get that thrill of excitement as I go home. Not today. I have a few more hours before I see my comfy couch under my butt.

Parent/Teacher conferences can be fun if you both want to be there. Most of the time no one does, though. I enjoy talking to parents about their children and how they've improved this last month. But when it's Friday and 75 degrees outside, I'd rather be in my car blasting the music with all the windows down on the highway. Sitting in a humid room is the last place I want to be.

I get things ready before 3'o'clock rolls around and make sure I have all the paper work I want to go over laid out neatly on my desk. I make sure Waffles is feed and the artwork is hung for all to see before the first set of parents walk in.

I greet everyone just as I did to the person in front of them "Hi, I'm Chandler Bing. I'm glad you could make it." They then sit in their child's desk as I begin going over a few of their exceptional work and what I think we could work on, at home and school, to get their scores ready for the next grade.

With 23 students in the class I only have 20 minutes with each parent that comes in. That's 5 hours of constant talking and charming of the adults that trust me with their kids. If everything goes right and no one goes over their time I'll be out by 8 and home by 8:30. I just hope it ends on a positive note and no one receives negative feedback that could ruin the holiday weekend.

"Are you saying my son is slow?"

Shaking my head I assure them dyscalculis is nothing of the sorts "1 of 10 kids, ages 5-15 are diagnosed with a learning disability." I inform the parents "If you will be willing to get some test done-"

"My boy is not a science experiment." They interrupt

I briefly close my eyes "I'm not saying that Ma'am. I just see him continuing to struggle in the subject. Because of this he is eligible for an IEP testing every year." I pull out a few pamphlet on the topic to give them a better feel of the idea. "It's completely your choice whether you want to enroll your child in a resource program or not." I say "They won't miss out on any of the regular school work I will be offering, nor does it cost you any more than the initial fees."

She glances over at her husband and for a second I believe she is considering it. She looks back at me and sighs softly, taking the form in her hand "And does this take place during the school day or do we have to take time out of our day?"

"No no, this happens here." I am quick to add "We have additional tutors on the staff and a quiet room in the library where the child will bring their school work and get extra help." They continue to look over the form as I keep talking "It's only about an hour out of their day, a couple times a week. Usually the student misses out on extra curricular but their grades will remain the same. If anything, they will increase by a whole letter."

Finally they look up at my anxious eyes before replying with the answer that I hoped for.

And with that, I can go home with a relaxing feeling that I've done my job right.

The night is busy with people lined up all the way outside restaurants waiting on the next free table. The street lights hit my car with a shimmy reflection as I drive by. The road is damp from the passing cloud we had an hour ago. My _no longer clean car_ carries spots around the windshield from sitting outside as it rained.

I was really looking forward to having my windows down but that's kind of hard if I don't want to ruin the interior of my car. A few raindrops escape the clouds and land on my window just where I was looking. Maybe, If I'm lucky, the party will be canceled tomorrow due to the moody atmosphere.

"That reminds me, I need to call Joey." Holding the stirring wheel with one hand, I reach in my back pocket for my cell and flip it open to reveal the keypad.

It rings a few times before he finally answers. "Hey, whaz up?" It sounds like he has a mouth full of food

"Are you eating?" I ask, slowing down as I come to a red light.

He swallows "...I got hungry."

Rolling my eyes, I ask him what he's doing tomorrow.

"I've got two tickets to the Mets game tomorrow." He tells me. I can sense excitement in his voice and a smile on his face.

"Great, I'll go!"

"Sorry man, I already have a date." Joey has a date every Saturday night, why does this not surprise me? "Her name is Felicia, she's British and hot. Am I the luckiest bastard or what?"

Nodding to myself, I press the gas when the light changes to green "Yeah, you're pretty lucky."

There is a slight pause as silence filters between us. Why didn't he tell me he was going to the game sooner? I love the Mets, my jersey is the only thing besides dress shirts hanging in my closet.

"Dude, why do you want to go suddenly? You haven't been to a game in 5 years."

The Mets World Series game was my first date with Monica. It was, and probably still is, one of the best days of my life. Just thinking about it brings a smile to my face.

 _"So tell me something about yourself." I begin kicking the pebble at my feet as we head towards the gates._

 _"Well," She clutches her purse at her side as she turns her body towards me than straight ahead again "I'm your college roommate's little sister. I'm sure you already know the deep secrets about my personal life. I think this date will be me getting to know you."_

 _I chuckle "Fair enough. What do you want to know?" My one hand holds my worn out glove as the other is shoved deep into my pocket, gripping the tickets. It's a method I've found myself doing when I get nervous._

 _She hums slightly as she thinks of a question. I can't believe how attracted I am towards her right now. She is gorgeous, kind, funny, smart; what isn't there to like?_

 _"Where do you find yourself in 5 years?"_

 _"Ah, the golden question." I smile when she laughs. I love that laugh, it's not annoying or high pitched, it's...different. "Hopefully working for a job I love. Something that pays well so I don't have to worry about supporting my family. But I don't want it all to be about money, either. I want to keep the business end of my life in the office and come home to someone I love until death parts us without worrying if a file went straight through to HR or not..." I shrug. I should have just said I see myself married with children. Now I sound lame going into dept about a job I'm not even sure will exist._

 _I feel her eyes on me and I can't be sure if I said something wrong. But my concern doesn't last long as she smiles and softly says "Good answer."_

 _Walking up to the ticket gate my hand escapes my pocket as I hand our tickets over to be scanned. Thanking the lady at the gate before we walk in, I hand Monica her ticket. Before I could find the warm sensation of my pockets, Monica's hand reaches down for mine. And for a moment, I hope my hand isn't sweaty._

 _Her face glows with excitement as she sees the opened stadium. The sun hits my baseball cap that covers her long locks, hiding her eyes that are as blue as the ocean and for a second I'm lost. How did I get to be the lucky bastard to go out with the most gorgeous women I've ever laid eyes on? Something tells me I'm dreaming. The wind picks up and her buttoned jersey flies open revealing the white tank top underneath. God, I hope I'm not dreaming._

 _Swallowing the lump in my throat, I quickly ask if she's hungry. Something, anything, to get my mind off the thoughts running through my head._

 _Most of the night was a blur and pretty soon it's the bottom of the ninth, a man on first, 2 outs, down by 1 and Hampton is up to bat. Everyone is on the edge of their seats ready for the home run that will win us the game._

 _I could see the pitcher sweating from here as Hampton grips the bat even tighter; ready to slam it. My glove is still firmly on my left hand, Monica's hand on my thigh and empty cups at our feet. The rest of the world disappeared as I watched the field light up, the sun long gone by this point._

 _"Time!" The ump raises his hands and the batter steps out._

 _As the coach walks out to the mound music fills the speakers and everyone's eyes go to the big screen. A heart shaped boarder with the words "Kiss Cam" come on as couples throughout the stadium share their public display of affection._

 _Then my heart starts racing again as I find mine and Monica's face up there. I politely shake my head and lean back in my chair; trying to get out of the shot. This is our first date. I wasn't going to ruin it by some G-rated smooch for the crowds entertainment._

 _"Booo..."_

 _Thankfully, the camera respects my decline as they move onto an elderly couple._

 _Looking around I try to find out where the camera may be pointing, but it's way too crowded to notice._

 _When Monica's hand pats my thigh I look up to find us on the build board once again. I sigh knowing there isn't much I can do once the audience begins chanting "Kiss Her...Kiss Her...Kiss Her!" I turn towards my date and find a soft smile planted on her lips._

 _"So, are you gonna kiss me or not?" She says softly. And although the people around us are loud and obnoxious, I can hear her clearly._

 _Leaning in slowly, her eyes as blue as the sea, her lips glistening against the night stars as I only see her._

 _Monica raises her cap slightly just as our lips clash together. The intensity almost_ _unbearable as my breath hitches. The feeling mutual as the crowd goes "Awww..." and I know she feels the electricity too._

 _I don't want to break away, but any longer and I would have ended up with brain damage by the lack of oxygen._

 _"Play ball!"_

 _Our eyes lock, and for a moment, I'm no longer nervous._

"Chandler? You still there man?" Joey's voice comes through my cell.

Blinking a few times, I quickly look around to see where I'm at. Thankfully I'm just down the street from my apartment. It's amazing how I can still end up on the right track even when I'm worlds away.

"I'm sorry, what was the question?"

"Dude, you were gone for like 5 minutes. I thought we lost connection." He tells me "I just wanted to know why you suddenly want tickets for a game you haven't been to in years."

My head is pounding, I can't think straight. All these emotions, all these thoughts, are circling my head like some kind of parallel universe. "I just think it's time for a change." I answer before hanging up and tossing my phone in the passenger seat. I want to forget Monica Geller, but it's kind of hard to do when I'm still in love with her.


	5. More Than Just Lemonade

Peanuts from the sky, something everyone wants to know the flavor of. Are they salty, dry, honey roasted? It's a taste that will only last you through the first half hour of the flight.

Six peanuts don't go very far when you are seated between two people that can only be defined as the Hulk and Mother Teresa.

Fortunately, those half a dozen flavorless protein snake-bites are reserved for Coach, and Coach only.

First class is something celebrities like to call, a 5 star restaurant.

First, they bring out appetizers like smoked salmon and seared tuna soon followed by a spinach salad. Then for the main course, we had choices like Gorgonzola crusted beef filet with red wine beer sauce or wild rice and vegetable stuffed portobello mushroom served in a roasted red pepper sauce. We also got to choose between options like four seasons mousse cake or a specialty sundae for a sweet ending. One word for ya: Heaven.

"Mon?"

Shaking my head, I turn to my brother in the drivers seat. "I'm sorry?"

"I've said your name like five times. Where were you?"

Sighing contently, I lay my head back against the rest and look forward at the airport traffic we are trying to maneuver through. "Nowhere." Cracking a smile, I turn my head towards Ross "So how's Rach?"

"Uncomfortable, miserable, desperate...terrified." He glances over at me "But mostly excited and grateful." He smiles then indicates left before the car moves over. "I look at her and see how overwhelmed she gets with love for a fetus that we haven't even welcomed into the world, yet." He says softly "For being unexpected and sudden, this little baby is something we both want. It's amazing just how much you can love someone you haven't even met."

His words bring a tear to my eye before I quickly wipe it away from under my sunglasses. "You are going to make an incredible father." I put my hand over his on the stick-shift before squeezing softly and letting go, bringing my hand back onto my lap. The last thing he needs is my hand being the cause of an accident. "So tell me, have you decided on names? Tell me everything!" Kids are my weakness. They are God's creation to drive adults insane and elders crazy. Kids are a beautiful work of art. "Any day now, right?"

He nods "You could be an aunt tomorrow." He comments, patting my leg

I roll my eyes "It would be fantastic if your baby could be born tomorrow." That way I'd spend my day in the hospital waiting room instead of interacting with a house full of people. After the long day I had, I would rather enjoy a small home cooked meal with immediate family. Preferably, without fifty guest in our living room. I really don't want to attend this party. Unfortunately, it's happening at my parents house and that is where I'll be staying these next few days. Unless... "Hey Ross, do you and Rachel have a guest room unoccupied?"

He chuckles, already knowing where I'm going with this "Not unless you want to sleep in a bassinet." He stops swiftly before adding "But hey! You know who does have a spare room?" A smile creeps onto his face and I'm almost afraid to ask. But that's okay, because he continues anyway. "Chandler Bing."

I exhale sharply, turning towards the window "Not you too." I don't even want to see the smirk he is forming. Hearing it in his voice is enough for me.

"Mon, he was the love of your life. We were all sure you two would get married the day you introduced him to everyone. You guys were like, Romeo and Juliet." He jokes but I don't understand the punch line.

If I keep quiet maybe he will eventually stop talking.

"I just don't understand why you left him?" I can feel his eyes on me and I'm thankful I'm wearing sunglasses so he doesn't see the tears form in my eyes.

"It just..." Shaking my head, I take a deep breath "It didn't work out."

It's silent for a while before he speaks again. "I'm pretty sure there is more to it than different interests."

Maybe there is, I thought. Maybe we could have worked things out without breaking two hearts in the process, but it's far too late to turn back now and find out.

The rest of the ride was pretty much silent. With a few speed bumps here and there, we arrived home within an hour. Ross actually managed to drive the speed limit. I thought for sure I wouldn't see the house in the daylight, but he proved me wrong.

As Ross slowly pulled up to the big white house, all I could do was stare. It looked different, but I'm sure it's just my imagination. The grass was freshly cut with not a single weed to pull. Must have fertilized; I thought. However, dad has never been one to care for his own lawn so neatly. I turn to Ross still sitting in the drivers seat with the car in park. "Did dad call someone-"

He nods, cutting me off. "He hired three men to come out and do lawn care. It's crazy how fast they work. Finished in half an hour. Grass cut and fertilized, weeds wracked, bushes trimmed, all ten yards."

"Hm," I shrug "Impressive." Before I turn back towards the window I comment one last thing that I know will make him feel low. "He didn't hire you to do his manly work." I chuckle as his face drops.

"I was on Rachel duty."

"Sure, sure." I nod

"Seriously." He corrects any doubtfulness I brush off. "She could pop any day now!" His shouting makes me jump back.

Trying to calm him down I place a hand on his arm "Okay, I believe you." I pause and think "If Rachel could burst at any moment, why were you sent to come and get me?" I question.

"She got tired of me breathing down her neck." He mutters so softly I barely catch what he says as I turn back towards the house I grew up in.

Ross does get over protected when it comes to Rachel and his baby. That's why I know he will be a great dad. He has that fatherly connection with kids and they look up to him. He makes joking around rated G when children are in hearing range and knows the right time to put down the foot. Plus, he has the dad haircut. It's like a 2 for 1 deal.

"Just staring at the house doesn't do anything..." He trails off and for a moment I shut my eyes imagining I'm back in my LA house cuddled up in my satin sheets. I imagine it ideally; just minutes before I climbed out of a candle-lit bubble bath with scented salts. And of course, there is wine involved in this flashback. Nothing says LA like a bubble bath with a wine glass in arms reach.

I wonder if mom still has her supplies so I can relive the fantasy. As least, the bath part, I'm sure I won't find satin sheets within a 10 mile radius.

The car shifts as Ross opens and slams the door. My eyes open reluctantly when I realize I'm now sitting alone. Looking in the rear view mirror, I find Ross pulling my luggage out the trunk before he slams that door shut as well.

Why do doors only shut when we slam them? Without thinking too much into it, I climb out and reach to grab my bags from Ross.

"I got it." He grips the handle tighter and I follow him up the path.

As I walk my eyes drift to the pavement where my hand print is engraved into the cement.

 _I sat on the porch swing, my legs dangling off the cushioned seat as I watched the large truck's butt spin around and around. I was four years old and curious. I had no idea what exactly was going on, but I did know not to touch the gooey stuff coming out of the truck's butt._

 _My dad gave me an apple juice box and half a baloney sandwich, telling me to eat my lunch on the porch before he began walking over to the men in bright orange and yellow jackets._

 _Once again, I was four. If you told me not to do something it just made me want to do it even more._

 _Slowly, I stood up from the porch swing and took tiny steps closer to the grey paint. It looked so soft and fun to touch...my innocent mind couldn't resist._

 _My dad was too busy to notice my hand pressing into the hardening cement. He would have never even turned from his conversation had I not screamed as the cement crusted around my little fingers. Clearly, it was not paint._

 _He scolded me for 30 seconds before picking me up and running to the van. I started to cry as I watched his face fill with panic._

We spent 3 hours in the emergency room that day as they scrapped my hand delicately with a chisel. As painful as it may sound, I hardly felt a thing. The doctors were pretty good at distracting me from the operation they preformed as I was fully conscience on the hospital bed.

Smiling to myself, I look away from my hand print as I continue to follow Ross to the front door.

Without knocking or even ringing the doorbell, Ross opens the door and carries my bags inside.

Laughter fills the air and I look to Ross for any sign that we should have knocked before entering. But he never looks back at me. Instead, he sets my luggage by the stairs and heads towards the voices coming from the kitchen.

I've missed my family dearly, but there are times where I just wish I could find a place to relax and sink deep into a romantic novel. I'd love to catch up on the last few years, but there are more important things I could be doing; like unpacking.

I hear my mothers voice ring through the house and another cluster of laughter follows.

Setting down my purse along the rest of my belongings, I make my way to the kitchen. The last time I made this walk I was grabbing some last minute things before heading out of town. That was a hard time for all of us; laughter was the last thing heard in this household.

Without a pause, I walk straight through the swinging door.

"Monica!" Rachel practically pounces the moment our eyes meet. Her pregnant state doesn't stop her from quickly standing to greet me with a hug. "How was the trip?"

I break away with a huge smile "Long, but good." I try to keep it short before looking down at her glowing stomach "But enough about me. How are you? You look fantastic!" I step back to get a good look at my best friend.

She sighs but the smile never leaves "I'm ready to see my baby."

"I bet. Ross told me how anxious you are." I look over at my brother and back again "Do we know..." I trail off waiting for them to fill in.

"We decided to be surprised." Ross tells me, grabbing two waters out of the fridge, one for me.

I nod, taking the beverage before Rachel guides me to an open seat next to her.

"They don't want to do the whole gender norms thing." It's the first time my mother speaks since I walked in the door. "If they find out it's a girl most likely they will start buying pinks and purples for the little one, and if it's a boy..." She waves her hand around expecting me to catch on without her need to finish.

Which I do, and I completely agree.

My mother looks straight at me and forms a grin "Welcome home, sweetheart." She stands and takes a single step towards me before I follow her lead and we join together in a hug. She kisses the side of my head and asks the exact same question Rachel had a minute ago "How was your trip?"

"Judy, she already answered that." Now it was my fathers turn to join in the conversation "You've wasted your only question. Now it's my turn to greet our little girl." He stands up and wraps his bear arms around my tiny form.

I'm not too sure what he means by "only question." But I do often complain how they always ask me 20 questions the minute we speak on the phone. So I'm guessing they've agreed to cut back to a single question the minute I walk in the door.

To which I'm thankful for.

"Now," My dad breaks away but his hands remain on my shoulders "Where's the boyfriend?"

Rolling my eyes, I move away and back over to my chair.

"Way to go Jack, now she will never let us in on her personal life."

"I don't think I like this 'one question' idea." My father comments as he takes a seat.

Ignoring my parents side talk, I move on to another topic that doesn't involve me. "So mom, are you ready for your big celebration tomorrow?" I cross one leg over the other and lean back against the chair to get comfortable.

"As ready as I'll ever be. The guest will start arriving at one. It doesn't give me much time to set everything up which is why we will have to do most of it tonight." She informs me.

The place looks spotless. The cabinets and counter tops are polished, the floor is waxed and the windows remain so shiny you'd think the door was wide open.

Glancing outside I find tables and chairs resting up against the side of the house ready to be placed on the lawn. Tents are put up to provide shade as twinkle lights surround the edge ready for when the sun sets.

My mother puts on the most beautiful gatherings. She never sits down until she knows everyone is settled and comfortable where they're at. It's a gene I hope I've accumulated over the years after watching my mother prepare her holiday festivities.

"I'm expecting around 150 people to show by all the requests that were sent back." She announces which not only makes my eyes grow wide, but my fathers too. I guess this is the first time he is hearing of this news as well. She continues as if our house holds that many guest and won't be a problem. "The caterer will arrive around 12:00. So I'm going to need all hands on deck to get that food to the ice chest."

"And by ice chest, you mean the refrigerator?"

She nods "And I've ordered a couple more from the..." She snaps her fingers, the word on the tip of her tongue "Oh Jack, the place that Denise rented for her banquet. What's it called?" She shuts her eyes hoping it will come to her.

"Triple A Rentals, off of Court Street." He fills us all in on the mystery place that you can apparently rent refrigerators.

My mother nods "Yes!"

"Wait." Ross stops the conversation, holding up his hand to get everyone's attention. "You rented refrigerators? This food will been eaten. We don't need a place to store it for long."

"Yes sweetheart. But I'd rather the salad be fresh than sit out and get soggy from the heat."

"And what about the heated food. Are we putting that food in these coolers as well?"

Now he is just being a smart ass. When things don't become clear as crystals to my brother he always has to find a way through the subject, which will most likely get a death stare from somebody.

"No darling, we have ovens for those type of foods."

Just a few years ago my mother sent me pictures of her new renovated kitchen. She put in a great big marble countertop with overhead lights hanging down from the ceiling. She put in three brand new ovens, one on top of the other and a stainless steel fridge to match her stainless steel sink and dishwasher. I have no idea where she found all this money to do this kind of work, but the place looks magnificent.

"Okay." I clap my hands together giving my brother that death stare we talked about "Why don't we start setting up the tables before it gets too dark. Then we can talk about dinner?" I suggest

"That sounds like a plan." Rachel starts to stand but Ross gently pushes her back down.

"When Monica said _we,_ she meant everyone but you." He comments, kissing the side of her head before sliding his water closer "Hydrate."

The second I stepped outside I noticed a huge difference. The back patio was wider, the stain a lot brighter and no chipped railings with mold spots. "Nice work dad. I didn't know you had it in ya." I comment, running my hand along the sanded railing that prevented you from falling off the side.

"Yeah, I thought I'd take up a new hobby."

"And by _hobby_ , he means buying the supplies." Ross chimed in "Dad couldn't build a bird house if he wanted to."

I chuckle and fold my arms securely around my body as a gust of wind blows through. "Ah," I nod, completely understanding "Trying to take all the credit from Ross?" I smirk "Nice job, big brother."

"Nope." I look up to find him shaking his head. Now I'm confused.

I hear my father sigh as he steps closer "Sweetheart-"

"Uh oh..." I tilt my head to the side "Did you get Mr. Burke to do your dirty work again? Dad, you can't beat him if he is playing both sides." I laugh but it doesn't last long when I find Ross giving my dad a look.

It's silent for a while, no one jumping in to the conversation.

The back door slides open before slamming shut as my mother appears "What do you think, darling? Chandler did a good job, ha?" She smiles, looking around at the patio planted under our feet.

My eyes grow wide as I look at my mother beside me. "Chandler? You hired Chandler to do this?"

Her eyes look confused as she looks towards my father to jump in. But he is looking down, avoiding my gaze.

Finally I get some answers as Ross begins to explain. "He has a truck and the only way we could get the wood here is by truck. Then he started to help unload and you know dad, he gets winded fairly easily." He looks back at dad who nods but still doesn't look up; like a little boy afraid of a crush. "And you dated him, you know he's a nice guy. He wasn't just gonna say "See you later!" He started up the power tools and sawed the wood to the appropriate length and-"

"And the next thing I know, I'm making lemonade." My mom chuckles nervously as my dad laughs along in the same awkward state.

"And our shirts are off-it was hot-so we were drenched..." He tries to ease the mood

"Dad." I close my eyes, the mental image almost too much to handle. My hand covers my face as I try to calm down. Not only has my family been interacting with my ex, but they have been doing it behind my back.

Shaking my head, I glare at the person who started this "If you need to borrow a truck, next time call a contractor." And with that I back up towards the door. I can't believe this, first they keep in contact, then they don't even tell me about it. "Pretty soon they are going to tell me he is coming over for the big party."

"Ah, Mon...he is coming to the party."

My heart feels like it's hammering against my chest as I look over at Rachel sitting exactly where we left her; cradling the water in her hand. I wait for her to continue, but I don't think she will as she takes another drink.

"She invited him?" I furrow my brow before laughing, uneasily. "I should have seen this coming." Sitting down beside my friend, I continue "Of course she would try and get us back together the way we once were. She _loved_ him." I tell Rachel although I'm pretty sure she is already aware. "And when I say _love_ , I mean she treated him as though he was part of the family."

"Well, we all treated him like family."

Ignoring her I lean forward "Do you think he knows I'm in town?" I ask but don't wait for an answer "I mean, we didn't leave on very good terms. So do you think he wants to speak with me to maybe..." I venture off "Clear the pallet?"

"Like make-up sex?" She raises her eyebrows far enough they reach her hairline.

"No!" I gasp "Like clear the air, rekindle the friendship."

Silence falls between us; neither ready to say what we are both thinking. My thumbs begin to twiddle as my mind starts to gamble with all the thoughts running around. Maybe Chandler does know, maybe he wants to come by to try and win me back? A part of me wants to accept that, but an even bigger part doesn't think I'm ready for that kind of commitment. We were more than that lovey-dovey couple on the street. We were in love and talked about the future often.

Chandler was the only person I wanted to spend the rest of my life with, and I'm pretty sure he felt the same way. Before I left things were hard between us. Both of us knew the end was near.

As things began to feel different, everything hurt: my heart, my head, my whole body ached for days as I cried. As I boarded my first flight to LA and turned around, only to find my love missing, I knew our relationship was effectively ruined.

It was the beginning of the end in my heart as I carried on without hearing from him. No one even muttered his name until a few months later when my mother bumped into him at the supper market.

When she told me he looked like he hasn't slept in months I felt terrible for leaving the way I did. I wanted to return home and fix what I left. But I couldn't as I stepped in front of the camera and changed my life forever.

* * *

AN:

 _It took me a lot longer than I thought to write this chapter! I really hope you guys are enjoying it because next chapter a lot of things will be revealed and hopefully things will start making a little more sense._

 _I just want to thank everyone for sticking with me as I take days to update._


	6. Rock a My Baby

AN:

(The myth of being stung by a bee only once is false. And it hurt like hell)

Honestly, I don't want to post this. This chapter has a lot of things I'm going to regret putting but at this moment I just feel like I need to update and write the next part. I apologize for the wait, I've been working everyday for the past week and a half and being 8 hour shifts it's hard to get a chance to write.

I honestly have no idea what I'm going to write next and I don't think I should post this without knowing but it's been 2 weeks so here goes nothing...

* * *

 _"It's pink."_

 _My eyes remain wide as I stand in front of the mirror, my appearance more girly than it's ever been. I've never worn pink before in my life, and the fact that I'm starting now only for a girl I love, is frightening. Are these the sacrifices you have to make for love?_

 _"Honey, it's not pink." There she is, the women that brought me to the store to pick out an outfit that will match hers. We wouldn't even be here if it wasn't for her cousins wedding invitation in the mail._

 _My eyes shift as Monica pears over my shoulder, her fingers running through my oily hair. "It's coral." She corrects before straightening out my collar. She leans in closer, her lips centimeters from my ear "It makes you look sexy."_

 _A shiver makes its way through my body before I turn around in my coral shirt. My arms snake around her waist and I press my forehead against hers before closing my eyes. "We are in a dressing room right now."_

 _She grins "Good thing it's unisex..." She jokes and I can't help but laugh. We've been together way too long._

 _"Hormones?" I question._

 _She nods before rubbing her fingers over my shoulders and down to my hands._

 _Stepping back, I smile as we lock eyes "How are you feeling? Nauseous, yet?"_

 _Monica shakes her head and I can't help but feel relieved. "It's been pretty good today." She assures me._

 _"Good." I could stay like this for hours just holding her. She is the reason I'm still here. Although, she tells me any chance she gets that I'm her rock. But honestly, I think she is mine. She holds down my paper fort when the 'Chandler' part of my personality comes out. She makes committing something I look forward to, if only she gave me the remote it'll be an easier job._

 _"What do you say we get out of here?" She mutters before placing a peck on my check._

 _"You got it, let me just get out of these clothes." I answer, finally letting go of her hands to unbutton my polo shirt. Before I know what's going on, her thumbs begin to untie my belt on my navy blue shorts. "Mon-"_

 _"Shhh..." She quiets me with a kiss and both of our motions stop._

 _I can feel her tongue pushing against my lips gently before I part them and allow entry. The second we make contact a moan escapes Monica's throat and my whole body presses against hers. The feeling of Monica's fingernails gently scrapping against my back makes it that much harder to pull away. But I have to pull away before I find myself whipping it out right here right now. "Okay..." I shiver before moving back and keeping Monica at a distance. I've read how women react to hormones but I never thought a man in a pink shirt could turn them on so easily. Then a thought occurs to me "Maybe I'll just wear this out." I quickly grab my old clothes as Monica opens the door._

 _We are young, in love and want to be a family. But not even two weeks later, something halted that dream._

Standing at the end of the drive in my coral shirt that I haven't worn in a little over a year, I grab the pot luck from my front seat. There are things my mother never taught me, but she always reminded me to show up at a gathering with a dish to share with the host. I told my mother that Judy probably ordered enough to feed an army. That's when she reminded me that "the Bing's never _assume._ "

"I wish the Bing's could predict whether or not this party is a bust." I mumble, slamming the door shut with my elbow.

Taking a deep breath, I make my way up the drive and closer to the house that I spent most of my afternoons. At the beginning of our relationship I'd quickly drive home after work for a speed shower and a shave. But about three weeks and a very serious feeling in the pit of my stomach later, I stopped wasting the gas and went straight to the Geller's. Someday's I'd shower there, others I felt comfortable enough to bring a spare shirt and that was good enough. Our relationship was strong that I didn't feel the need to impress. They treated me like family and I appreciated the love we shared. Being able to accept someone with oil splattered across their jeans and dirty hands from changing motors all day is a true bond.

Before I even have a chance to knock, the door swings open and Ross appears with a sack of garbage. "Hey man!" He shouts, excitedly. "Good to see ya again, come on in." He steps aside and pats me on the back trying to make me feel welcomed but I feel like I'm overstepping just by showing up "The party's right through there." He points straight ahead to the kitchen.

"Thanks." I smile warmly and step inside where I'm left alone to gather my thoughts.

I should have never came. This is a mistake, I don't even know why I listened to my mothers advice and brought a dish. I didn't even make it, I picked it up at the store on my way over. Cooking was never my specialty.

Before I could turn around and make a quick dash towards my vehicle, Judy Geller yells out my name for all to hear. God, could this family _have_ better timing?

I plaster a smile on my face "Hello, Mrs. Geller. Thanks for inviting me."

She closes the gap in between us before breaking away. "I brought a small dessert as a thank you." I announce, handing over the cheese cake that I took out of it's package in the car to make it appear more presentable.

"You are so sweet, I don't understand why Monica dumped you." She takes the dish before giving me a motherly peck on the cheek. "Why don't you come on back, everyone is outside."

I nod before shoving my hands deep in my pockets. Judy Geller always says it like it is, there is no sugar coating feelings; it'll just come out completely wrong if she tries to be nice about things. She never hides her inner thoughts, which can be a blessing or a nightmare, it all depends on how she takes your appearance.

In a way, there should be more people like her.

Sliding the back door opened the noise among the party becomes clear. My eyes scan the crowd before I find my mother sitting with her back facing me. With little hesitation, I start my way to the open seat beside her. I should have hesitated a little longer because I never got a chance to glance at the other person sitting across her.

Slowly, I approached the table, my eyes only on one person.

"There he is, my plus one." My mother looks up at me, her arm wrapping around my back to rub small circles soothingly.

She has a smile that can cure a frown and a touch so gentle you will find yourself pouring your heart out in one sitting. She's the girl that will change your future just by saying the words 'I love you'.

I don't know how, but I gathered enough strength to look away and catch my mothers awaiting eyes "I think I'm gonna say hi to Jack." I lean down and peck her on the cheek before walking away; not giving her any chance to stop me.

She moved to California. She got a job, a boyfriend, she wasn't suppose to be here today. My heart's racing a million times a minute and all I did was see her. God, she looked amazing. The last time I laid eyes on her she was climbing in the car on her way back home. The last time I kissed her was about three days before that. It was tough before we called it quits. Dragging it on and working things out wasn't a solution to what we went through the last week of our relationship. Some things you can fix by just muttering the words 'I love you', however, this was something more devastating than that.

I barely got past the kitchen before my ears register any noise.

"Chandler."

It actually hurts hearing her whisper my name so softly. The way it rolls off her tongue so naturally gets me weak.

Stopping right in front of the door, I wait without turning around.

Her flip-flops quit flapping and I know she stopped too. She doesn't speak, but her breath hitches as she sighs. "Can we talk?"

"Honestly, I don't think there is anything to say." Turning around I find Monica Geller just a few yards away.

She takes one step forward and I force myself from not stepping back. I'm being ridiculous. I never thought it'll get to the point where I literally treat her like she has Ebola and I'm her immune victim she is certain will get the virus next. I'm surprised I don't have rubber gloves and a face mask on right now. But of course, I'm immune, so none of that matters.

I've heard stories of ex's becoming best friends after a harsh breakup. I've also heard stories where one kills the other; this could go either way as far as I'm concerned.

"Please." Is all she says to get me to give.

I know Monica wouldn't become one of those psycho ex-girlfriends that murders their ex-boyfriend when they least expect it; watering the garden. Before the poor guy knows it, she is washing away his blood stain with the hose after she already slaughtered the bastard to pieces. I could just picture it now, one arm by the roses and a leg next to the lilac's. The only time someone would look in the general direction of the man's head is when they read the tag that has the flower type written on it.

And this is exactly why you don't cheat on your partner.

Not that I cheated.

The door shuts behind us and now we are both standing on the front porch. The minute I cross my arms over my chest Monica starts pacing, both of us waiting for the other to start.

It's only a minute later that I can't take the pacing anymore. She always paces when she's nervous.

"What do you want to talk about?" I sigh, shrugging "What _is_ there to talk about, really? Because last time I checked you didn't want to speak to me."

When she matches my defeated sigh I know she regrets it as much as I do. "It's not like that." She stops suddenly when people walk out the front door and between us. We wait until we are alone again and before she can continue, I speak.

"You just left." My expression isn't easy. My feelings are a mixture of hurt and anger, it's been so long since we actually talked that all the feelings I have bottled up are coming out all at once. "How do you think that made me feel? It's like you didn't even give me a second thought-"

"I told you to come with me-" She raises her voice and I'm sure we've gathered an audience somewhere.

"I couldn't just drop my life like you did. I had a future here!" I'm yelling now, the tension too much to handle. "I had a life!"

"And you think I didn't?" Tears are streaking down her face and my heart breaks just a little. "You think it was easy when I left? Dropping everything and starting over?" She hiccups "When I lost-" She stops, unable to say the word "-it-it felt like I lost you too." She takes a deep breath trying to calm down. "It hurt more than any rejection I've ever had." She sighs, uneasy. "You became distant...you weren't there for me the way I needed you to be. If you couldn't be 100% present the day I need you most, how am I to know that you were going to be there in the future when things got tough?"

My vision became blurry and I find myself crying as she spoke. Her voice softened when she looked away. Making eye contact was almost impossible at this point.

"The day I miscarried..." She shakes her head and at that moment I find myself stepping closer. My arms wrap around her petite form as I gather her in a hug.

In this second I forget everything I was ever mad about. The way she walked out of my life just days after I spent hours in the hospital worried for the sake of my girlfriend and her well-being, was no longer a concern. The fact that I was planning on proposing when I found out she was pregnant was a thought only I knew. Sometimes I wonder where I would be if I had popped the question just hours before everything happened.

 _It sat innocently in my pocket as I waited, so many thoughts were running wild and free as the velvet box continue to burn a hole in my jacket._

 _I still can't believe it; I'm going to be a dad! The idea brings yet another smile to my face as I pace the floor before giving my heart a break and taking a seat on the couch._

 _I try to hide my grin but it's almost impossible at this point. Finding out this early on probably isn't the best solution, it just makes the next 9 months that much longer._

 _Being only 22 I still have that young energy to be an involved dad. I can do things with my kid like flag football, camping outdoors, running around until they get their diaper back on, and none of it will hurt my back. The Bing's call that "Good Timing"._

 _"AHHH..."_

 _Jumping up was my first reaction when I heard Monica yell from the other room. Darting from one end of the room to the other I knock on the door. "Monica, everything alright?" I ask trying to believe she only yelled cause she can't find the right shoes._

 _I hear her fight for breath from the other side and that idea immediately leaves the noggin._

 _"Chandler." Her voice is soft and short._

 _Quickly, I open the door only to be greeted by Monica sitting on the floor holding her abdomen. Blood pooled around where she sat, some on her hands. Without wasting another second, I reacted by hurrying towards her and scooping her up in my arms._

 _She was full on crying as she snaked her arms around my neck; getting blood on my jacket as I rushed out of apartment 20 and to my car._

 _Technically, I'm not a father yet, but in my mindset the minute I conceived there was somebody recognizing my voice as daddy._

 _"Chandler-"_

 _"We're almost there, baby." I quickly glance over at Monica in the passenger seat. Her face contorted as she carries out the pain her body is experiencing._

 _Maneuvering in and out of cars, I drive straight to the hospital. Luckily, it's within 10 minutes of the house, but it feels like hours until we reach the front door. I'm worried, scared and unbelievably terrified for my girl as well as our baby. At this point we both know what's happening and what the news will be when we go to bed tonight, but until it leaves the doctors lips, I will do everything in my willpower to save my family._

 _I put the car in park and not even a second later there are paramedics opening up Monica's door as I watch them take her away. Sitting there I contemplate what to do next. Is a proposal really the right thing at this moment?_

 _Reaching into my suit jacket, I grab the box that I suddenly no longer felt. Hesitantly, I wait just a few seconds before I open it up and take in the diamond ring I spent all my savings on._

 _I can't imagine making a family with anyone else, and if I'm honest, there will never be anyone else. Monica is my one and only. She is the pearl to my clam, the bow to my arrow, she is the person that makes me worth it._

 _And with a tap, I close the velvet box before reaching over and placing it in the glove compartment._

Monica damps my shirt as she sniffles, her arms wrap under mine before settling her hands around my shoulder blades. When I feel her relax into me I begin to wonder if there is a thing as second chances.

This feeling is mutual as I find myself resting my chin on top of her head, the fit perfect in my arms. When her eyes drift shut she speaks the last words of this conversation. "I needed you, more than I needed the doctors."

And we just stay there. Our worries behind us as we think about the next step. Whether that be together or apart, the past is the past as we think about what's to come.


	7. A Little Bit of Laundry

AN:

I've come to that point in my story that the rating will change. I just want everyone to know that once you reach the italics, it gets graphic. It won't hurt my feelings if any of you are uncomfortable reading it, for a long time I was uncomfortable reading it myself. But I slowly eased my way into it and now I somehow feel comfortable writing those things.

I want to apologize for the break I took. I had some things in my life that needed my attention a little bit more than this so I took a temperary break. I didn't come back to writing until 2 days ago and I somehow came up with this. Lucky I know what I want to write next so hopefully it won't take as long.

Until then, happy reading!

* * *

My head gets thrown back as I try not to spill my drink from the force of my belly laugh. My cheeks literally hurt from smiling so hard.

Everyone is on the edge of their seat as Chandler continues his story about us in college. Usually I don't enjoy listening to stories about myself but for some reason this occasion seems acceptable.

He holds up a hand as he chuckles; trying to get everyone to calm down so he can deliver the punchline.

"Here's the thing, here's the thing..." He pauses as our laughs subside "She didn't _know_ I was Ross' roommate-"

I watch as Rachel stares back at me so I explain my situation "A strange man comes knocking on my door close to midnight, I might add, with my garments in hand. How do you expect me to react?"

"Wait, wait, wait..." Rachel stops us "Why did Chandler have your laundry?"

Ah, the golden question. "I asked Ross to pick it up for me since he was going down to the basement anyway."

"But Ross couldn't carry all his laundry, which he had sorted in different baskets, and Monica's too. So he asked me to come along and grab hers." Chandler cuts in and motions for me to continue.

"Anyway." I roll my eyes "I ended up slapping him the first time we met." I reach over and rub his arm that lies on the hand rest "Right before I grabbed my laundry."

My mother shakes her head, dismay written all over her face. I'm sure it's hard for her to believe her young offspring slapping a perfect gentleman like Chandler. In my defense, I had no clue who this man was the minute I opened my door.

Chandler and I grab eye contact for a split second causing me to blush slightly when he winks at me; his one move that reassures any regret I might have about that night. He always knows how to get the butterflies flying in the pit of my stomach.

Shaking my empty bottle I stand up to get another, yet before I make my way to the kitchen I ask around to make sure everyone else is settled with their beverage "Honey, need another one?" I motion specifically to Chandler, not able to stop myself ahead of time.

Shit. That did not just come from my mouth. Shit, shit, shit.

My eyes widen as the blood rushes to my face. All eyes fall on me when they should be on Chandler waiting for his response.

Before he can respond I run my thumb across my bottom lip and step out of the circle we formed; heading straight towards the kitchen; not daring to turn back.

The next thing I know, I'm setting my empty bottle on the table. My hands rest on the counter top just before I lock my elbows and drop my head. I don't even remember opening the door, my mind is racing a million times a second. Out of all the things I could have said, I said that.

I hear the back door open and close, but I don't turn around. I'd rather not face my embarrassment.

"Sure, sweetums, I'd love another."

I can't help but crack a smile as my eyes drift shut for a moment. Dropping my shoulders, I turn around only to come face to face with Chandler Bing. "That's not funny."

He chuckles "Then why are you smiling?" He asks, walking over to grab a cold beverage from the fridge. I watch as he pops the cap open and slides it in front of me. Chandler then pushes up his sleeves, one after the other, and leans back against the counter. His hands rest behind him while he crosses his ankles.

"Impressive." I remark, inspecting the beer bottle as I realize he never used a bottle opener to open the alcohol.

"College." He states and I nod in answer.

I'd rather not hear all about his drunken college days, so I grab my glass and make my way to the trashcan. It's silent for a little while and I wonder if he is thinking all about the "what if" list. _What if_ , you never left? _What if_ we never broke up? _What if_ you never became famous? What if? Frankly, I don't think it'll change anything.

"Mon, when are we going to realize we've made a mistake?" He turns around so he can watch my every move.

"What you mean to say is..." I turn to face him, pointing the finger that holds the bottle believing that motion makes every point stronger. "When are we going to _admit_ we've made a mistake." I tell him, opening the lid of the trashcan and dropping the bottle into the sack.

He nods but remains silent. "Chandler, I'm leaving in 2 days-"

"So let's make it count." He takes a step closer to me.

Honestly, I realized it was a mistake the minute the plane took off. I got that sinking feeling of not belonging where I was going and I knew I shouldn't have left. I had no friends, no family, and for awhile, my Saturday nights were days I dreaded. The weekends were quiet as I spent most of the 48 hours alone. It wasn't until I got my first interview that I felt like there was a purpose for my existence. I felt like people actually saw me; making my career actually mean something. At first, not all the feedback was positive but that was something I told myself will never get me down. I will always accept negative criticism...it's what makes me a stronger being.

As I come back to the town it all began, the feeling of being lost resurfaces and I'm not sure where to go from here. It's not like I'm starting over or anything but it's never a pleasant feeling when remembering the things that hurt me in the past.

"You don't get it, do you?" My voice rises and I can't control the way my face tenses up, angrily. "If anything happens between us..." I motion to the space not occupied from him to me "It will make leaving _that_ much harder." Dropping my hand I shake my head but continue to make eye contact as my voice softens "I made a life for me back in L.A. And you made a life here." My shoulders slump and I ease the anger in my face. "We had our moment and you ended it-"

"No." He shakes his head and closes the gap between us " _You_ ended it." I watch as he bites his lip to keep from yelling.

"But you didn't come after me." I can feel the tears form in my eyes and I swallow before it spills out "You didn't fight for me."

The emotion built up inside me is nothing I can express with words. It's like bricks are being lied on top of my chest one by one, making it twice as hard to breath. It's like someone tied an anchor to my body, threw me in the ocean and told me to swim. It's like experiencing a heartbreak for the first time. It hurts all over again.

"Just tell me what to do." He sighs as his fingers lace through mine. "Please." The glisten in his eyes is soft and worrisome. And for a moment I want to take him upstairs and change his appearance completely. But before I can make a fool of myself, I step back and take my hand with me.

"I think it's best we don't see each other these next couple days." The words come out so soft that I don't even know if he heard me clearly. And I wonder if I can change my statement. It's not until he nods and steps back to retrieve his jacket from behind the chair that I realize he understood every word.

He doesn't argue with me, he doesn't even mutter a sound. He just grabs his jacket, reaches in his pocket for his keys and walks out. Without a goodbye or even an acknowledgment of his passing on to another place, he shuts the front door behind him.

The tears finally fall before I quickly wipe them away. This is for the best. If anything happened and then I left...it's only going to hurt us more. It's better to not get involved at all then to fall for someone I can't have.

At least, that's what I was taught.

Taking a deep breath I grab my drink and put on a smile. Reminding myself one last time that this is for the best, I walk outside.

The minute I open the door all eyes are on me "Chandler still in the restroom?" My father asks and I assume Chandler told the gang that he had to use the restroom when he came in the kitchen to talk to me.

Sitting back down in my seat next to Rachel I inform them that he had to get going as he had an early day tomorrow.

They all nod before going back to their conversation prior to my return. I risk a glance over at Rachel only to find her staring me down. I know she can see right through me. She's my best friend, she knows me better than I know myself.

"What?" I mouth before she burns a hole through my skull.

"Did you..." She mouths back and I blink a second too long as I shake my head. Looking across the circle I watch as my brother tells another one of his dinosaur stories. Rachel nudges me, grabbing my attention once more. "Go after him." She whispers but I don't move.

"I can't." I can feel the tears in my eyes start to form so I look away.

"Do you still love him?" She then asks

I'd be crazy not to. He's everything I'd want in a man: the scruff along his jaw line at 5'o'clock in the morning, the tan line that you only see when he does yard work in the middle of the afternoon, and the way his eyes scrunch up every time he smiles. But he's apart of New York while I'm living in California. We belong on opposite sides of the country and right now I think it's for the best. We just have bad timing. The minute I get back I have a photo shoot that I'm appearing in right before my interview with Wake-Up L.A, not to mention the Hallmark movie I'm staring in this Christmas. I have bigger things to worry about than a relationship.

The only difference is, one of these things will make me happy in the future.

Looking back at Rachel I nod slightly. "But I'm sure he's got a promotion coming up that needs his focus, and a gorgeous women standing outside his door." I comment

"Yeah." She nods and for a moment I'm devastated. Which side is she on? She's suppose to comfort me and say there is no other women besides me. That he's been waiting for me for years and I'm the only one meant for him. I'm about to call it quits and head up to bed when she mutters a final word. "You."

 _"You know you are the only one for me."_

 _I keep my eyes on the naked man beside me as he brushes yet another strand of hair from my eyes. I guess naked would be an overstatement, we have our undergarments on. After sex you'd think we'd remain nude but truth be told if his prisoner was out of jail any longer than need be, my guard dog will start to bite once more._

 _Do I have any self-control?_

 _Swallowing, I bite my tongue praying he can't read minds because that was the worst metaphor by far._

 _"I guess I better get out of here." He says but doesn't move._

 _"Honey, this is your apartment." I remind him, confusion written all over my face._

 _He laughs, which makes me smile._

 _"I know, I just love hearing you say it." He shifts so he's now lying on his back. "Can you believe it? We can have sex around the clock and you can be as loud as you'd like, and no one would complain!" He shouts only to retrieve a kick in the shin from me. "Ow..." And his eyes are back on mine as I try to keep a straight face but fail terribly._

 _"I think I'll be the first one to leave." I pull the sheets back and swing my legs over. Before I can get the chance to stand, Chandler's arms find my hips to push me back down. I can't help the grin that forms as he leans over my head and presses a kiss against my lips upside down. This seems to be our signature kiss as it's preformed often in this situation. My hand finds his cheek to steady his motions to which I feel his 5'o'lock shadow start to form._

 _When a moan escapes my lips he takes that as a sign to run his hands over my sides until he reaches the hem of my panties. God, I love his touch. So gentle and smooth it sends a chill down my spine every time._

 _With one last peck, Chandler trails his way down my neck and to my chest. Closing my eyes, I kiss his chest letting him know to keep going._

 _His nose and lips disappear behind my bra and I giggle while he tries his damn-dist to work around it. He groans in frustration and I push him back before he completely rips the material with his teeth. "Babe, you need to wear the one with a zipper in the front for occasions like this." He informs me and my brow furrows in response._

 _"How do you know I have one of those?" I ask, resting my hand on his chest as he sits up straighter._

 _"We're together, remember?" He jokes_

 _I roll my eyes "Right, I forgot." Spinning around, I crawl over his body "You've seen me naked."_

 _The temptation of being seductive during all of this is almost too much for him to handle as he grows stiff. Smirking, I reach back and unclasp my bra, allowing it to slowly slide down my arms._

 _Chandler gently lies on his back with a smile. Without losing eye contact, he grabs the straps and finishes undressing me. Once I'm exposed for the second time tonight, my knees rest beside his waist and I make sure he can feel the heat coming from my under carriage as I rub against him softly. When he grabs the side of my hips a grin forms on my lips before I bring myself down to plant another kiss on his mouth. I can feel him start to trace small circles against my skin with his thumb; the feeling electrifying and smooth, that I have to break away to gain some control._

 _"I love when the smallest touch turns you on."_

 _Looking down my nose I meet his bright blue eyes despite the dim room "If your smile weren't so damn charming none of this would be happening right now."_

 _As he flashes another one of those famous grins that caught my attention in the first place, he comments "You think I'm charming?"_

 _Looking up, I tease him slightly "Well..." trailing off I try to raise the suspense._

 _Apparently it's too much for him to bear as he grabs a hold of me securely, giving me no time to react when he tosses me back down._ _A shriek escapes my throat as my back hits the bed causing my hands to get thrown over my head. His body hoovers over mine, his breath so close I can smell the wine we shared earlier. I could get use to this view. A fit, naked, sweaty man pressed against my wet, naked, perky breast is not something I'd complain about._

 _Chandler's lips brush against mine before his eyes drift shut and he whispers "Well, I think I got a smart ass girlfriend..." He comments before crashing against me._

 _"A smart ass girlfriend who knows how to make you go crazy."_

 _He winks at me before slipping down my body with a smirk. If we were in any other situation I'd slap him for being mischievous, but at this moment I'd love it if he continued._

 _As if I couldn't have spoken any sooner..._

 _Gasping, I feel him trace my nipple with his tongue,_ _my back arches while his free hand works on the other one._

 _"G-God..." My voice hitches as my breathing becomes shallow. I can feel him smiling against me and my fingers lace through his damp locks from the bubble bath we just got out of._

 _College life is nothing I expected three years ago. For starters, the relationship boat is a cruise ship I would have bought a ticket for a long time ago if I knew the sex would be this great. I wouldn't necessarily say this is the best sex I've ever had, but if someone were to hook me up to a lie detector machine...well, I wasn't going to say "no"._

 _So to wrap it up, this is the best sex I've ever had._

 _Gently, Chandler's teeth scrap against my left breast as the other one gets rubbed between two fingers. I always knew women could orgasm just by fondling with their nipples, but shit, I couldn't have teased them any better than Chandler is right now._

 _It's not until Chandler gags that I realize I've been pushing on the back of his head this entire time._

 _"Sorry..." I gasp and drop my hand, but he just leans up and kisses my fingers before putting all his weight on one hand. For a moment I have no idea what he's about to do until my whole body trembles and my eyes roll to the back of my head.  
_

 _"Look at me." He commands but I can't seem to obey as the feeling intensifies. "Mon, open your eyes."_

 _Looking up I find his gorgeous face in front of mine and somehow everything gets more extreme._

 _His fingers lap over my freshly shaven..."Ahh..."_

 _"And she's back." He grins, pulling my panties down my legs before I kick the thin material off completely and he resumes his motions._

 _Slowly, Chandler moves his finger back and forth making sure to hit my sensitive area every time. If I were to go right now, well...what a way to go._

 _Spreading my legs a little further, Chandler cups behind my kneecap and raises my leg just right. "Jesus!" I yell as my whole body starts to shake. "Yes...yes..." Just when I thought I was about to go over the edge, Chandler inserts another finger. My hips start to move with his motions as he picks a rhythm. "Please, I'm almost there...oh God, please..."_

 _Before I can go any higher, his head disappears and I feel the flat of his tongue on my lips right before he slowly licks up. I can feel every move me makes and it causes me to squirm even more. He flicks the tip of his tongue gently across my clit, barely brushing it. Softly blowing cold air onto it, I start to shiver._

 _"Oh God, you're killing me," I whisper in frustration "Just lick me, dammit."_

 _Chandler smiles up at me to which I glare in irritation. But I have to admit it was mixed with a little bit of desire as I tried to hide my grin._

 _Leaning in, he places his whole mouth over my folds and licks my lips up and down._

 _"Oh yeah...that's it," I moan, finally getting some relief._

 _Reaching up, he made sure my breast were getting the same amount of attention as my opening._

 _Without thinking twice, I push up and rotate my hips so he could service me more completely. Apparently, doing so could really break your boyfriends nose._

 _"Kind of need to breath, Mon..." He comments_

 _"Oh God, I'm so sorry." I apologized, spreading my legs further apart._

 _"You're good." He assures me, wiggling his nose to make sure we don't have to make an emergency trip, because believe me, this would be one hell of a story. "Just let me do the pleasuring. I'll make sure you get your relief."_

 _It's good to know he finds this humorous._

 _Nodding, he comes up to kiss me quickly and I can't help but taste myself on his lips before he moves back down my body._

 _And just like that, we are back in the zone as his tongue weaves in and out of my folds like he's searching for something. With each lick he brings me higher to my climax and closer to a breaking point._

 _Chandler goes deeper and deeper into me as I whimper with each new feeling that comes. It was as if my flesh knew exactly where his tongue would go next, and began tingling a moment before it received its wet touch._

 _I tried to wait out my orgasm but it was hard with what I was feeling between my legs._

 _"Ahh...ahhh...ahhh...ahhh..." I whine, softly_

 _I could feel Chandler's tongue move up to my clit before his lips closed around it, and then the most amazing jolt, as if given a good, long suck. My eyes drift shut to focus on the movements he's giving me. My lips are firmly closed, trying to hold in the moans that longed to escape._

 _"Mmmmmm...mmmmmm...mmmmm..."_

 _Then I whispered, "Chandler, I can't take much more. I need you to go in me...please."_

 _Sometimes I think he enjoys this more than I do._

 _Chandler leaves me with a pop before quickly throwing off his boxers, sitting up and shimming forward so he can angle himself at my opening. My breathing is coming back down to normal as my eyes flutter open to find him beaming at me. "Need a break?" He questions, seeing my face a little flustered._

 _"You think you're so smug." I keep my lips in a fine line before he leans down and places a passionate kiss upon them and I break out into a huge grin as I taste the sweetness on his lips._

 _Slowly, I feel my lips part as he enters me._

 _"More, more," I thought as the pressure begins to build at my entrance._

 _"Yes." I mouth as I feel my lips slowly parting even more as Chandler tantalizingly starts to fill me._

 _"More...more." This time, whispering._

 _Little by little, in a teasingly slow fashion, I feel myself being filled with a warm hard flesh._

 _And just as quickly as it begun, Chandler starts to draw out of me before pushing back in. Drawing and pushing, over and over._ _Dwelling on every increment of motion inside me, my breathing thins out once more._

 _"OH!" I whimper "Oh, yes...please..."_

 _As he begins to speed up I give up on holding back my moans._

 _"Ohhhh yeah...oh Chan...yeah...do it...do it.."_

 _I can feel the weight of his body pushing into me with every thrust._

 _"Deeper...harder..." Panting, he pushes me closer and closer to the edge._

 _Wrapping his hand around my kneecap, he pulls himself to me as he reaches the bottom of each thrust._

 _"AAWWWHHHH..." I scream, feeling his head press against the top of my G-spot. "There...right there..."_

 _Chandler slowly withdraws his rod, then rams it back in._

 _"FUCK!" I scream, reaching the point of no return._

 _Again and again he rams into me, the sound of my ass slamming against his stomach is too much to handle as my body surrenders my orgasm._

 _"AAAAHHHHHHHH!" Screaming, I feel the warmth of his release shooting into me "OHHHHHhhhh...ohhhh...mmmmm...yeah...yeahhhh...more...God..." His body was sticking against mine with sweat as we both feel the climax ease away._

 _Slowly coming to a stop, Chandler rolls off of me. Lying on our backs we wait until our breathing gets back to normal before I reach over and rest my head upon his chest._

 _"You are the only one for me, too."_


	8. Fire Flies

Opening the trunk of my everyday economy car, I stare at the boxes of supplies in the back just waiting to be used. Some are marked with a K, others with a 3; it all depends on the grade I used them in.

Dust bunnies settle on the lids from sitting up in my mothers' attic all these years. Looking closer I can see my hand prints from when I dragged the boxes out to my car last night.

I only briefly looked inside these boxes, completely unaware what awaits underneath the construction paper and glue sticks. My mom would buy me all sorts of supplies, including things that weren't even on my list or things I never asked for. Sometimes I wondered if "school" was a place you only did arts & crafts. A lot of the things inside these boxes haven't even been opened yet. It's time we change that.

Lifting one box at a time, I set them on the pavement at my feet. Pausing, I stare down at the box covered in dust particles, I think to myself: I should probably wipe these off before bringing them inside. Luckily, I have an old rag in the back seat of my car that will help with the task at hand.

"Mr. Bing..."

A soft little voice brings a smile to my face as I turn and crouch down in front of my student who walks towards me slowly with a carrot in her hand.

"Yes, Emily?" I ask, a smile still in its place.

"My mom told me to ask if it's okay."

I chuckle softly "If what is okay, Em?"

"If I feed this carrot to Waffles?" She holds up the long orange vegetable.

Smiling, I nod "You tell your mom, I said that's fine."

Without a reply, she runs off to her mother a couple parking spots away.

Standing there I watch the interaction between mother and daughter. While Mrs. Brady scoops up her daughter I smile broadly. She wraps her arms under Emily's bottom in order to have a better support before giving her a quick peck on the forehead. As Emily slides down her mothers body and runs off to be with the other kids, Mrs. Brady looks back towards me, gives a warm smile followed by a small wave just before disappearing on the other side of the car.

Hearing the 10 minute bell, I walk to the side of my car and open the back door to retrieve a rag.

My student's happiness is my priority. If they're happy, I'm happy, and right now I couldn't have asked for a better group. Every one of my 8-9 year olds are looking to succeed in the future and I'm going to make that happen. If I have to stay after school every day of class and work with all of them individually, I'll do it. Not only is making sure my students succeed in their schooling part of my job description, but it's something I would be more than happy to oblige.

I have 23 children that fit into my 1 heart. 23 little kids I care the world that remain safe outside of my classroom. My co-workers tell me not to get attached, it just makes the end of the year 10 times harder. But it's too late, I'm velcro and their carpeting just stuck to me the minute they walked through the door. Pulling apart only does damage and frankly, I think we work better as one.

"Hey, Chandler, need some help?" Looking over I find my co-worker Tim walking towards me with only a laptop bag and a coffee mug in hand. Tim Fields teaches the 6th grade and reminds me to this day that I'm the best 2nd grade teacher that has come through those doors. Tim has been here since the late 90's, he's seen many different types of teaching methods; him saying that I'm an inspiration means a lot.

Okay, maybe he didn't exactly use the word _inspiration_ , but he might as well have.

"That would be great, I appreciate it." Smiling, I pull out the last box and wipe it down.

Tim stands there patiently until I'm ready. "So how was your weekend?" He asks looking down at me before sipping from his coffee mug.

"Ah..." I hesitate not sure which part I should fill him in on, or even if I should tell him all that happened. I could be that person that just says "the usual, you?" and move on with my day. Then again, that's not how I was taught to communicate. "I went to a Labor day barbecue."

"Oh really?" He acts generally interested in what I did this weekend, "Who's? A family friend, relative, block party?"

"Just a family friend." I answer, standing up straight and tossing the rag in my trunk before slamming the back door closed. "It was actually really nice out so once it got dark they fired up the burn pit and we just sat around catching up." I try to avoid telling him that this family friend was actually Monica Geller, the well-known actress. And she happened to be there, not to mention I once dated her, impregnated her, which ended horribly, horribly wrong. Did I mention she was there?

Clearing my throat I look back at Tim "How about you? Any great parties you attend?" Bending down, I stack two boxes, leaving one for Tim.

"Nope, just my cat and I this weekend."

Did I mention Tim was a sad man?

Picking up the supplies we head towards the building.

It was mostly silent walking up to the building, with the exception of an engine flying 30,000 feet above, and for a moment I wonder if it's Monica. I'm not aware when her flight leaves or if that plane is even headed towards California, but apart of me wishes it's not her. I want her to remain close to me, the idea that she is going back to the other side of the country hurts and I can't bare the thought of it any longer.

Thankfully, when we approach the front doors someone is there holding them opened. With a thank you, we walk past and towards my room.

"Johnathon, what do you think this is?" I ask holding up a hard covered book over my head.

It was just after recess and I was starting my 4th lesson of the day. I could tell the kids were getting tired, I was even tired. However, I'm not planning on this lesson taking very long.

"Um...a reading book?" He says a little unsure if it's a trick question.

"That's right, and what exactly is a book?" I then ask, bringing it down so they can see closer as I move in and out of aisles.

"Paper." He answers

Nodding, I remain quiet to see if anyone else wants to take a guess. When I don't get any response I move ahead with my lecture.

"Books are objects, they can be moved," I grab Katelyn's book and move it to Brittney's desk beside her. "replaced," Grabbing Miles', I switch it out with mine. "and even thrown away..." They wait for me to react but I don't "I'm not going to toss this." I respond, receiving a small laugh in return. "But what happens when I open and actually read it?" Flipping through the pages I turn and walk back towards the front of the room. Spinning around I find a few hands in the air. "Emily?" I ask, setting the book on my desk behind me and relaxing against it.

"You learn something."

"Exactly!" I push myself off my desk and walk towards the chalkboard. "Now, I know what you guys are thinking, when are we going to throw our books in the trash."

I get a few chuckles out of that one-

Suddenly, a loud piercing sound rings through the building followed by a bright blinking flash that lights up the hallway. It's a sound that everyone is familiar with as one by one students stand. "Alright, it's just a drill." I assure them because I know a few hearts are racing. "Leave your stuff and don't run." Everyone hurriedly rushes towards the door and I mentally do a head count, touching each one on the shoulder as they leave. "Follow Mrs. Reynolds' class out, quietly." I instruct.

Just when the last student leaves my sight I walk towards the windows and close every one before grabbing my emergency bag and slinging it over my shoulder. Double-checking the room, I walk out, closing the door behind me.

Even when everyone is out the alarm still rings and will ring for another 5 minutes.

Finding my class on the lawn they stare back at the building just waiting to see it will go up in flames. I can hear the fire trucks blocks away as their sirens blow. When I reach my class, questions are asked. "Mr. Bing, if this isn't a real fire, then why are the firemen coming?"

"It's just a precaution, they go around the building and make sure each alarm is working properly." I answer

"Ohhh.." They nod "If there isn't a real fire then how did the fire alarm go off?"

"Someone pulled it, dummy."

My head snaps over to one of my students. "Conner." Out comes a stern tone I'm sure none of my students have ever heard. I'm not use to disciplining my students and I'm sure my glasses aren't helping with the authority look, but I'm trying my damnedest to pull it off. "Another comment like that and you'll be finding yourself standing next to Mr. Stevens."

The moment I said it "Oow's " were sung.

Trying to ignore them I grab my clipboard "Let me take attendance. I know Conner is here..." I mutter

15 minutes later we are making our way back in the building. Teachers unlock their doors and students file in ready to resume their lesson. Honestly, I don't remember where I was going with mine.

Walking in I find Waffles' hair sticking up and his little hut turned over.

"Mr. Bing, I think Waffles was a little scared." Someone comments and everyone gathers around his cage.

"I think you're right." Leaving the classroom door open, I stride across the room to the windows. It'll be nice if we could get a good breeze in here again. Next, I walk back to Miles desk replacing my teachers handbook with his. That is the last thing that needs to be mixed up in this class. "Alright." I start and everyone gets the hint to go back to their seats and quiet down.

"Have you ever been in a fire, Mr. Bing?" Miles asks

All eyes land on me and I hesitate. Have I ever been in a fire? Sure, but probably not the _fire_ they are talking about. I glance back at the clock and sure enough, I have time for a quick story.

"Who here knows the actress Monica Geller?" I ask as hands shoot up high, eyes wide and a smile creeping to the surface of their lips. "Well here is something not a lot of you know." I pause and walk over to my podium "Monica Geller can't only act, but she is also an amazing cook." One by one my students begin to lean forward on their elbows. "Mr. Bing...is not." They laugh

 _It's like watching paint dry._

 _The fumes fill the air as you watch the permanent ink slowly eat away at the color underneath. Making sure not a single drop slides down the wall, you start to circle around the work you've done. With the smell and the constant paint watching, you soon regret the color you picked out. Does this color coordinate with the rooms around it? Does the color drain the artwork you bought to spice up the room? Just when you think it's dry, you better think again. It'll take hours, days even, if nothing helps move the process along. The fumes get to you and your head starts to pound. Who's going to break it to your wife that this is the last time anything gets painted? Sure as hell ain't going to be the dog._

 _My hands find my hips as I stand in front of the stove. I don't know which is worse: watching paint dry or water boil._

 _Her hands snake through my arms and wrap around my abdomen before her chin rests on my shoulder._

 _"You don't have to stand here and watch it all night." She informs me before kissing my cheek and letting go._

 _"I feel like I do though." Spinning around, I face her. "Explain to me why I'm cooking again..."_

 _She chuckles "Because you wanted to prove to me that you could cook."_

 _"Ahh...the answer to all my questions."_

 _"Baby, you don't have to do this." She shakes her head, grabbing for my hands. "I know you can cook-" She pauses rephrasing her comment and breaking eye contact. "You may not be very good at it, but it's still edible." She assures me, looking back._

 _I sigh, letting go of her grip and walking away. "Isn't it sad though? That I can't even cook for my girlfriend."_

 _She shrugs, not really sure how to respond. But can I blame her?_

 _"I just want to be able to boil water and not fuck it up." I'm pacing back and forth, her eyes the only thing following me. "When was the last time I cooked for you?"_

 _Shrugging once again, her arms cross over her chest "Last month."_

 _Shaking my head, I continue my strides, "I ordered pizza last month."_

 _"It was very good pizza, though." She points out, giving me some credit._

 _"Thanks, I'll be sure to thank the man who satisfied my girlfriends appetite." I remark sarcastically retrieving one of her infamous eye rolls in return. "This is what's going to make you break up with me, isn't it? Because I can't cook." I begin pacing faster as I talk more rapidly "We might as well end it now before dinner-" Without warning my voice softens "Je vais probablement vous tuer avec ce repas . Je ne peux pas faire un ce droit-"_

 _"Chandler..."_

 _I keep my head down, avoiding eye contact. "Et je sais ce que tu vas dire , ' Chandler vous exagérez .' Mais suis-je ? "_

 _"Chandler!" When Monica yells I look up to find the pot over boiling and flames high around it._

 _Before I can react, I grab Monica and push her over to the fridge out of the way. "Call 911." I instruct to which she already has her phone out doing so._

 _Eyeing the stove top I cautiously and hesitatingly turn off the burner with my body crouched down and my arm extended. I could feel the hair on my arm start to burn and quickly pull back._

 _It's like I just ran a marathon, my heart is beating so fast._

 _Glancing back at Monica I see the panic in her eyes and I imagine mine look the same._

 _From the moment I turned off the burner the flames seemed to die down; much to my relief. Opening the cabinets underneath the sink, I reach down and look for the small fire-extinguisher I got as a house warming gift from Monica when I moved in. I guess she knew I would be needing it._

 _Standing up, I grab the short hose with one hand, aim, and pull the nozzle._

 _I never should have went off on her and I would have been watching what I was doing. Hell, I never should have been cooking and none of this would have happened._

 _With one final squirt, I drop my arms and look back at my white covered stove. The can is pretty much empty as I toss it to the side and slowly slide down the wall. A few burn marks on my ceiling, but besides that no damage done._ _My knees are bent with my forearms resting upon them, my eyes never leaving the place of the impact._

 _It wasn't until Monica crawled over to me that my mind started to come back. Honestly, I don't remember much of what happened. It's all a blur I was so nervous._

 _"Was that French?" She whispers to me, her arm wrapping around my shoulder as her hand squeezes my bicep._

 _Chuckling, I shake my head and reply softly "I didn't think I remembered any of my French from high school." I say, honestly_

 _Her chin rests on my shoulder as her eyes blink up at me._ _"You had me worried there for a moment."_

 _It was stupid and childish the way I acted, but all I can think to say is "I'm sorry."_

 _"Promise me you won't overreacted again. Let's just talk things out...preferably in English." She smirks_

 _Looking over I see the familiar sparkle in her eyes. "I promise."_

 _Just then the fire department rushes in and we both jump back. "Anyone home!" They yell out_

 _"In here!" Monica responds back before quickly looking back at me "I love you." She whispers, placing a kiss on my lips._

 _After securely checking the kitchen to make sure the fire is truly out, we gave our statements. The crew is pretty much done here but no one leaves as they sit around and wait for the all clear._

 _With a fire resistant blanket around our shoulders we sat outside in the back of an ambulance._

 _It was a comfortable silence and for a while neither of us spoke. "I don't get it."_

 _My feet rest on the bumper, my elbows on my knees and nothing holding the blanket in place. So when I turn to look at her I wasn't surprised when the blanket fell. "What?" I question_

 _"I watched every single thing you did. I don't understand how the fire started, exactly." She shakes her head still trying to put all the pieces together "Unless you did something when I went to the bathroom?"_

 _I shake my head "I only did what you told me to do and that was to put oil in the pot."_

 _Her eyes widen, her head whipping back at me. "I didn't say that."_

 _"Yes you did." I defend_

 _She chuckles as if this is a joke "Chandler, I never said to put oil in the pot, I said to put oil in the pan."_

 _"What's the difference?"_

 _"Everything!" Her voice rises, her eyes widening_

 _I realize there is probably no point in arguing with her, her major is culinary._

 _"Once everything is over." I change the subject not wanting to start speaking French again. "And we look back on today, I have a feeling we are both going to be laughing."_

 _She nudges me with a smirk "I hope you learned something here."_

 _Nodding I answer "Yeah, put the pizza man on speed dial."_

"Did you really speak in French, Mr. Bing?"

I laugh as his mother looks up at me, confusion written all over her face "Oui, Tucker." I wink at him "If you come in tomorrow morning and know what Oui means I'll let you pick out my hat." He smiles happily before grasping his mothers hand and walking off.

Strolling down the steps with my hands stuffed deep into my pockets, I watch as students fill the school buses. As a kid, I loved riding the school bus. I have 1 too many stories that involve my little nugget head on a school bus. All stories rated G and only 1 ended with me in the superintendence office.

With most of my students gone, a few on the playground, I take off my engineering hat and straighten out my hair.

"I really like your hat, Mr. Bing."

Spinning around I find one of my noble students standing by. "Why thank you, Emily." I squat down to her level "I really like your hair today."

Her smile never fades as she tilts her head "Mamma says it's only short because of the medicine." She runs off to where her mother stands by the car.

Slowly, I stand up. Everything starts to dawn on me as my eyes stay fixed on the little girl.

Silently, her mother takes her hand while she balances on the curb. I try to mentally prepare myself for the truth as they head this way. With only a few steps away, Emily cautiously lets go of her mothers hand and moves along a little faster.

Stopping just in front she quietly begins to explain. "Emily-"

I stop her politely "I think I know." For a split second I take my eyes off my student walking along the buses to look at Mrs. Brady.

"We just didn't want to tell anyone quite yet, afraid she might get treated differently than all the other kids."

I nod, understandingly.

"It's just a matter of time before chemo kicks in." She informs me, glancing back at her child a few buses down before walking back.

"Is she going to be okay?"

She puts on a small smile as she looks up at me "Emily really loves your class. She can't wait to get to school everyday." Her smile drops as she looks over at her daughter playing happily. "And uh...I'd be grateful if you kept our secret a little longer." She nods, her small smile returning "I just don't want her to be singled out."

I swallow the lump in my throat and nod "Yeah."

She smiles appreciatively and grabs Emily's hand as she walks back up the curb.

I watch as the little girl turns and waves goodbye, causing me to blink my eyes several times to stop the tears, before waving back.

They said to not get attached, and that is exactly what I did.

I don't have long to process what I just found out as my phone begins to vibrate in my pant pocket. Looking down the text is burred by the water in my eyes. Choking back, I blink away the tears that threaten to fall and read the words _Unknown Number._ Usually I'd ignore it and move on with my day but right now I want nothing else but to give life a chance.

"Hello?" I question

"Hello, is this Chandler Bing?"

* * *

AN:

No one wants to be my friend so I'm writing fanfiction.

You can thank the bitches that just ding-dong ditched me.

But seriously, if anyone knows how to change back a cabled TV to a non-cabled TV...feel free to spread the information. My roommate left for the weekend telling me that her TV doesn't get cable. I messed with it and now it does, problem is, I'm not too sure she wants that.

So now I'm friendless and I broke the TV that belongs to the one person that trusts me.

But other than that, what did you all think of this chapter? Honestly, I finished it last night but was too lazy to post it. Don't worry, you will find out who called Chandler next chapter. Hopefully sooner rather than later.


	9. Interview Me

Well, shit. So much for trying to update every week...

* * *

"Ready in 5!"

I stand there getting my nose powdered as a man wearing all black, carrying a clipboard and speaking into one of those very expensive aviation headsets, hurries by.

I've done this a dozen times but it doesn't defeat the butterflies from taking off. It's a mixture of both excitement and nervousness as they escort me to curtain. Once I'm in place the man next to me wearing exactly the same uniform as the one guy who rushed by not even 20 seconds ago, speaks into his mic "Ms. Geller at curtain."

I feel like I'm getting ready for my Broadway debut. There are so many people around, making sure everything is in order before showtime; I haven't even seen the host yet.

Looking down, I observe my outfit one final time. For a minute there I thought I was wearing a whole other outfit.

I spent 2 hours this morning trying to figure out what to wear. Did I want to wear an attention-getting outfit that consist of a red shirt tucked into a pair of high-wasted, pleated trousers, paired with a quilted shoulder clutch and pointed-toe pumps? Or did I want to go another direction and wear a white suit jacket paired with a flared bottom blouse with a sequined collar and white shortened pleated trousers? Perhaps I could go elegant wearing a black-blue suit with a matching white and blue polka-dot shirt underneath, accessorized by a slim nude belt that matched my strappy nude heels. Then of course I had the option of an innocent school girl look with a warm floral dress that ended above the knee that had angel sleeves down to my elbows, and heel boots to match. But I'm sure the media will look at them as stripper boots.

However, none of those seemed fitting as I went with a simple form fitting red slacks that stopped just before my ankles were my nude pointed heels covered my toes. My white silk shirt that was loose around my chest had a few buttons done. And because I get cold easily, I grabbed my light grey wool suit jacket to wear over my silk dress shirt. With the sleeves pulled up to my elbows my white shirt poked through at the cuffs completing my outfit.

My thoughts are interrupted as I hear a loud speaker click on.

"She stared in Love Before Sunset and you know her as America's most beautiful woman." A hand pushes me slightly forward at the exact moment my name is being shouted through the room "Monica Geller!"

For a moment my hearing is impaired by all the cheering. I give a little wave as I walk out and see all the happy faces in the crowd. And I wonder to myself, how many of the 250 audience members don't know who I am?

Sliding that thought to the back of my mind, I smile wide just as I go in to hug Ellen before finally sitting down. Running my hands along the armrest of the chair, I wave once again to the standing crowd as they quiet down.

"You look very nice today." She begins just as I cross one leg over the other.

"Thank you!" I look down at the outfit I settled on "It took me about 3 hours to get ready. So, I'm glad you approve." I joke. I was never good at the whole interview thing. I find it uneasy to talk about myself.

"You could wear a bag and I wouldn't mind." She assures me.

Chuckling, I shift in my seat "You should have told me that before I plugged in the curling iron." I tease "Oh, by the way, I love what you did to the dressing rooms." My eyes widen, appreciating the mints that were placed in the bathroom

"Thank...you?" She looks around not too sure what I mean.

"The breath mints." I clue her in, softly.

She nods "Well, I like my guest to have fresh breath when they come out."

I laugh and continue to suck on the fresh candy.

"So lets talk about something..."

"Yes! Lets." I smile, clapping my hands together.

"I hear you're the IT girl. The hottest women in Hollywood."

"I am?" I blush "That's a pretty heavy title to take on."

"Yeah, well this photo-shoot speaks for itself." Ellen reaches over and picks up a Rolling Stones magazine featuring me on the cover half naked.

"Oh dear!" I blush as I look away and watch the crowds reaction as they all holler and whistle.

"You're gorgeous by the way! You've got sheets wrapped around you and you're lying there all ashamed like you've got something to hide-" She examines

"I do, Ellen!" I laugh motioning to my body "This!" Looking back at the photo I explain my feelings about this shoot "I honestly was terrified about it. I didn't want it to happen. I kept asking if we could try some with clothes, but they kept saying that this was what the people wanted to see!" I shook my head, not able to avert my eyes "I had some words with my publicist afterwards."

"So you didn't know it was going to be this kind of shoot?" She asks, setting the magazine back down.

"Not exactly, I mean, I had an idea. But I just thought maybe a bikini or something." I admit "I'm just the type of girl that likes to hide behind a little more fabric, that's all-"

"Well you have a sheet-" She comments getting everyone to laugh.

I shrug with a smile.

"Alright we have to take a break, more from Monica when we come back!" She announces to the camera before leaning in so I can hear her over the crowd.

I enjoy interviews 95% of the time. The other 5% is me paranoid I'm going to say something wrong that may offend my fan base. Ellen is pretty good at making sure her guest feel comfortable, though. As long as she doesn't scare me I think I'll leave here on good terms.

We lean back in our chairs and Andy's hand goes up as he counts down from 3 before pointing at us.

"Welcome back, we're here with Monica Geller." She turns towards me "Now Monica, I found something interesting." She eyes me and for a moment I'm nervous about what she could possibly have found that she feels the need to bring it up.

"Oh gosh..." I mumble and scan the crowd as they let out a soft laugh. "You know, every time you find something _interesting_ it doesn't bold well for me. I'm sweating just thinking about what you have to say."

"Are you nervous?" She questions "Do you have something to hide?"

Avoiding eye contact, I shake my head and play with a loose thread on my jacket.

"No, it's nothing bad." She tells me as she grabs a stack of cards from her side table "I just have a few unanswered questions I need solved for my blog." She jokes, getting her glasses.

I sit up straighter and chuckle "Okay."

"First of all, who is this?"

She points to the monitor as a very familiar clip pops up of Chandler and I at a Met's game. I gasp, unable to hide the grin as I lean forward "Oh my gosh, where did you find that?"

"I have my connections." She straightens her glasses

I nod, still looking at the photo of us on the Kiss Cam "That was actually our first date." I can't believe how young I look there. I must have been in college at the time.

"You two look pretty cozy for a first date."

I nod, but don't answer as I move my eyes from the monitor to Ellen.

She moves the card to the back of the pile in her hands before asking another curious question. "When's the wedding?"

I laugh out loud and lean back in my chair "So you're the one that started that rumor." I confront and she smiles before writing something down on the card.

"That's right, you weren't suppose to know that." She mutters softly but loud enough for everyone to hear.

Rolling my eyes, I glance over the crowd who lets a laugh loose.

"So, what does he do?"

"He's a teacher." I say simply

"Awww!"

I can't help but smile at the affection towards his career. Chandler was always one with the kids. Honestly, I think he'd take a bullet for a kid he just met. There is no doubt in my mind there is a house full of little Chandlers in his future.

"Which grade does he teach?"

Then it dawns on me... "I'm not sure." I'm instantly filled with regret. Why didn't I ask him about his job when I visited home, how selfish am I? I guess there wasn't much room for questions as we were basically arguing the entire time.

"You're not sure?" Her eyes go wide as she looks at me and the _guilt-o-meter_ goes skyrocket.

"No!" I blush, my hands finding my face "Oh my God I'm so embarrassed! I should know this..." Shaking my head I try to recall any conversation we might have had about his job "I know it's little kids..." I comment "But that's it-"

"Well I guess we're gonna have to call him and find out." I watch as she reaches down to grab her cord phone but before she can begin dialing, she stops herself. "You know what..." I wait as she pauses "I'm not going to be able to sense the chemistry over the phone. Why don't we bring him out." Her eyes go from mine to the doorway behind me.

My heart starts to race as the crowd erupts in cheer while the giant sliding doors open at once and he walks out.

I stand on wobbly knees as two men hurry out with an extra chair. I don't know how to react; I want to throw my arms around him, but I also want to slap him from yelling at me a few nights ago.

Before I can do either or, he walks into Ellen's opened arms for a hug. "Thanks for coming." She smiles, breaking away

"Thanks for having me." He returns the acknowledgment before turning towards me.

I'm still shell shocked seeing him standing in front of me that I don't know how to respond.

"Hi, Mon." He can't say much else as the same man with the clipboard from earlier comes out to fix him up with a mic.

"Hey." It's soft, but at least something came out. I'm practically speechless as questions fly around my head. How? When? Who?

Most of my questions are one-worded.

The crowd continues to erupt in applause as Chandler and I sit down. Ellen waits for the audience to quiet down and take their seats before asking her questions. "So, Chandler-" She starts and his smile slowly fades, not too sure what crazy question she might ask. "How are you doing? You flight just got in, right?"

"Yeah!" Chandlers eyes widen "I think I landed about 20 minutes ago." He fills us in and now I understand why he is panting. "Your uber really knows his way around traffic."

Ellen chuckles "I'm glad or else you wouldn't be sitting with us right now." She glanced back at me "You saved Monica from an embarrassing situation."

My face turns light pink as Chandler turns towards me "Since when have you ever been in an embarrassing situation?"

I swallow the uncomfortable lump in my throat "Since I couldn't remember which class you taught."

He chuckles and I release the breath from my lungs; relieved he isn't offended. "I'm working with 2nd graders." He smiles, turning back towards Ellen "The rugrats that could one day be my president."

"Aw..." She gushes "Teach them while they're still cute-" She jokes, causing the audience to laugh "I'm kidding." She taps his knee for assurance "I heard from a little bird that you like to dress up everyday, is that right?" She questions

"Well, it's kind of mandatory that every teacher wear formal attire." Chandler plays along but knows exactly what she's getting at.

Ellen chuckles "I mean like costumes."

Chandler nods with a smile "Yeah, I love to entertain and it certainly makes learning more fun." He starts to explain as he sits back a little further, getting comfortable in his seat "Ever since I was young I've had an interest in all different kinds of hats. And instead of having them sit in my Hope Chest to gather dust, I decided to wear a different hat every day." He looks back towards the monitor "I brought a few pictures..." He says just as his photographs are displayed on the big screen. "There I am!" He smiles as the world sees his pizza shaped hat atop his head and one of his students pretending to bite it. "My buddy took that picture." I watch as his smile gets wider the longer he eyes the photo. Another one appears, this one has most of his students gathered around, all wearing a different hat: a firefighter, a graduation cap, a hard hat, pirate, joker, there even looks to be a helicopter hat in the mix. "Anyway," Finally turning back to Ellen, Chandler finishes his story "My kids love to see all the crazy hats I've accumulated over the years, so it's become kind of a thing."

"That's amazing!" Ellen is still marveling over the pictures he brought before they disappear "I actually got you a little something that you could put in your classroom..."

"Really?" Chandler looks stunned as Ellen looks behind us at a guy bringing out a baby blue hat rack with twenty more different hats on them, one of them of Ellen's face. "Oh my gosh!" He stands up, first to hug the host, then to inspect his expanded collection "That's amazing, I love it! Thank you!" I stand up and follow Chandler's lead so I don't look awkward by myself.

"Try this one on..." I take one off the hook and hand it to Chandler. The rainbow clown hair pokes through the top of the tall hat and I laugh as Chandler places it gently on his perfectly combed hair.

Ellen points to the camera "More with Monica Geller when we come back!" She shouts and the DJ starts up a tune.

I watch as Ellen joins us while Chandler continues to examine his gift. "I love this one." He takes it off the rack and traces the edges with his fingers "I'll be sure to wear it Monday, my kids are going to be so excited!"

"I'm glad." She smiles, "Whenever you're done looking at them Andy will bring it backstage until the show is over. Then he'll help you carry it to your car." She informs him.

He nods "Well I can look at them the rest of my life. If it's easier, I can help Andy take them-"

"Chandler." I chuckle, resting my hand on his shoulder and stealing a glance towards Ellen "You're the guest," I carefully grab the hat from his head before running my fingers through his hair to remove the hat head he created. "You don't always have to be so helpful."

"Sorry," He apologizes but I'm not sure what for "I guess it's just in my human nature."

And that's why I love you...I have to bite my tongue before what I'm thinking slips.

Ellen receives a signal from Andy and I'm assuming we are coming back from commercial.

"Alright, Andy's going to take that back for you." Ellen informs us before leading us back over to the chairs just as music plays and she brings the audience back.

"Welcome back, before the break we got to know Chandler a little more but we don't know his exact connection to Monica Geller." She turns towards me with a grin. "Care to explain how you two met?"

"Um..." Chandler and I look at each other with that familiar feeling in the pit of our stomachs. "College." I say simply.

Chandler smiles and continues; breaking eye contact as he looks back at Ellen "She actually punched me the first time we met-" He stretches the truth a little bit. I'm sure he's doing it only to mess with me.

"I did not!" I gasp

"Yes she did...right here." He points to his cheek with wide eyes.

I rub his cheek with my thumb, hoping to heal the hurt I've created. But I'm sure I've healed it several different times, over and over and over again...

"I even have a scar to prove it."

Rolling my eyes, I retrieve my hand "You got that scar from that stupid dirt bike you and Ross found in an alleyway behind your house."

"Okay that may be true." He confesses "She didn't punch me."

Ellen smiles "So you guys met in college. Did you have classes together or..."

I shake my head "No, we had two very different career paths. We actually met through my brother." I look over at Chandler "But Chandler didn't bring up the courage to ask me out until a few months later." I pause "He was pretty shy."

Chandler shrugs "I think any guy would be shy around you." He mumbles

"Aww..." The audience gushes

"Well aren't you two the cutest." Ellen chimes in

"I'm afraid we just might be." Chandler chuckles nervously as his face flushed a bright pink and he adjusts in his seat.

"I expect an invitation to the wedding." She comments but neither of us respond "I wanna thank you both for coming," She turns to the camera "I also wanna thank Rita Willis, and Debra Lissing! Be kind to one another, bye bye now."

The audience erupts in applause as we all stand and exchange hugs.

I enjoy interviews about 100% of the time. Marveling over at Chandler, I smile.

As long as I have him by my side everything is worth it.

* * *

AN:

When you write this chapter wearing a baseball cap the entire time... #INSPIRATION


	10. The Calm Before The Storm

AN: Alright, writers. I've been strapped down to reality for the past April, May, Jun...8 months. So I think it's about time I owe you a chapter. So if it starts to suck about halfway through don't be concerned. I'm just that bad. I wrote the beginning in June then stopped and just recently wrote the last part without much of an idea as to where I was taking it.

I also would like to note what I wrote is completely unrealistic. I'd go on to explain why exactly it's so unrealistic but that'll give away the chapter. I wanted to write something off the wall and different, without thinking about the setting. Then I got too far into it and didn't want it to go to waste.

So here ya go. Enjoy this corner of my institution.

* * *

I've lost track of time, the universe is crafting into one image as I study the woman I gave my heart to years ago and never really got back. I should be on a plane back to New York right now, yet, Mother Nature has other plans.

The thunder shakes the ground as the lightning moves closer. Cars hunk to running pedestrians outside as their window blades move back and forth rapidly working hard to clear the view for their owner. Puddles grow as the sewer drains began to over flow. Many locals are trying to get out of the city before the effect of the hurricane crashing South hits the city. But with this storm it doesn't look like anyone is going anywhere.

Another strike followed by a loud bang causes a rush of people to hurry inside. I quickly open the door I'm standing next to and usher everyone inside: mothers with small children, overworked business men and retired elderly.

It all came suddenly, the sun was out not too long ago. But then the wind picked up and the rain started falling shortly after; by then it was just a matter of time.

I continue to search the crowd for the woman who disappeared to take a phone call. My eyes move back and forth, through vehicles and around luggage carts; trying to find the girl I lost track of when the last lightning struck. But I see no one.

Glancing back inside, I wonder if she passed through without me realizing it? She could have easily blended in with the crowd, she's wearing a dark plaid flannel, a pair of ripped skinny jeans and a-

"Chandler!"

I feel a hand grip my forearm and my attention spins.

"Chandler, all the flights are canceled. No one is flying in or out tonight!" She yells over the pouring rain. "My mom said it's suppose to hit in a couple hours and suggests we head back to my place 'til it passes."

She appears soaked, her waterproof makeup sticking strong to her eyelashes. Her clothes are no longer dry as her breathing heaves and she continues to hold my arm.

My eyes scan the scene around me, if we wait another hour getting out of here will be both impossible and unsafe. Locking eyes with Monica I can only imagine what she is thinking. Her place is just thirty minutes outside of the city and about an hour from the ocean. It's nowhere near 100% safe, but it's better than being trapped in the airport for the next couple of days until they clear the run-way.

Nodding without directly looking at her, I see the traffic before us. It's useless calling in a chauffeur and just about every taxi cab is already taken.

Reaching down, I grip her hand and sling my carry-on over my shoulder.

Then we run.

Just across the street and four blocks up is a hotel that will provide their service on short notice. They are probably getting a lot of business with no planes taking off tonight, hopefully we'll be able to get a couple rooms.

With her hand tight in mine, we dash across the busy road. Our socks are soaked and our jeans are no longer comfortable but that doesn't slow our pace. It helps that I ran track in high school or I'd probably be fighting for an inhaler right about now.

"Here!" I yell, pulling her aside so we're now standing in a covered staircase.

She's fighting for her breath as we hug the building; clearing the way for traffic.

Mon was never the sporty type.

"Where are we going?" She finally questions as her eyelashes splash water down her face every time she blinks. Her crystal blue eyes fill with wonder and concern, standing there. I can feel her eyes over mine while I contemplate whether or not I'm heading in the right direction.

Looking at the sewer drain boil over, I begin questioning my tactic. I'm not exactly from this world as I try to rethink of what street I saw the hotel. It wasn't even an hour ago that I was starring at a Motel 6 from my taxi cab.

"Chandler." She tugs my arm when I don't answer; like a little kid trying to get their parents attention.

Shaking my head, confused, I look over at the street sign. _Madison_. The hotel was just a few streets North from Madison. "Just a few more blocks." I state, simply.

"A few more blocks to where?" She sounds both irritated and stressed. The perfect combination for a situation like this. She must have remembered that I don't do well when she's pissed at me because in the next second her cold fingers touch my cheek, forcing me to look at her. "Hey," The sympathy in her voice is delicate as she slides her fingers through my wet hair. "Talk to me."

Not a single part of our bodies are dry, and it's getting more uncomfortable by the second. The wind picks up, causing her whole body to shiver. We're gonna catch pneumonia out here if we don't get into something dry soon.

"I saw a hotel a couple blocks away," I pause "North. And if we just get there we can get out of these wet clothes, into some dry ones and get a decent nights sleep." I look out over the crowd running in and out of buildings, trying to get home "We'll wait it out there and hopefully I'll get on the next flight available."

Monica remains silent as her hand drops from my cheek. Her body suddenly feels distant although her feet never move. We're quiet, as we stand there a few more seconds "If that's what you want."

Glancing down at our intertwined fingers, I shrug "I don't think it matters what I want, anymore." I state rather coldly, but don't anticipate an answer.

Honestly, I'd rather be stranded in a crappy Motel 6 with Monica for a few days than be in my lonely New York apartment.

"Ready?" Without releasing my grip on her hand, I take a step back into the rain and continue my way down the street.

Pushing past the rush of the crowd, water splashes, soaking everything up to our elbows. My wet clothing clings tightly to all my creases, the moose in my hair is now sticking to my forehead; no longer holding anything in place. Water squishes out from between my toes each time my foot lands.

People rush by, not worried about anyone but themselves. Their only concern is to get out of the storm and back to their family.

As we zigzag to a motel that is appearing in the distance, I think about home and my students. Their little bug eyes starring back at mine at eight'o'clock on a Monday morning. One little yawn causing a string of them before I can finally start my lesson about something that will hopefully mold their minds throughout their schooling.

I think about James and his play dough creations during free time; the imagination one little boy discovers. I think about Eli and how smart he is as he sees everything from a different angle. And I think about Emily, and her health daily. Her strength and inspiration she has against the world. But most of the time I think about us; Monica and I, and if we will ever see eye to eye again.

I want to move past what happened years ago, but I'm afraid that will always be something that resurfaces. After all, it's what tore us apart.

It's a part of us now.

Slowly, I begin to see the other side of the tunnel; but it took years to walk through. I just hope it doesn't take another 5 years to reach the end of this tragedy. I wonder if other parents have this same agony when losing a baby? I imagine we aren't the only ones that can't get through it together.

Every time the subject resurfaces, we end up arguing about the situation. How I treated it was not my intention and the way it ended was not what Monica initiated.

Hopefully now, with the situation at hand, ends will meet and we can finish this together.

Tugging her hand lightly, I force Monica to run with the crowd across a loud intersection.

Coming up to the motel, we hurry inside and out of the chaos. Our hands break apart as our breathing remains heavy while we try to reorganize ourselves. We stand in the doorway, not able to push ourselves past everyone waiting; hoping the rain will ease up. The lobby is crowded with concerned families watching the storm erupt. Their eyes fixated on the swirling rain hitting the outside with a powerful gust of wind. The rain falls down, blows up, and bounces off anything in its path before reaching the ground.

Wriggling my toes, water gushes out the sides and I cringe uncomfortably. "I'm gonna go see about a couple rooms." I inform Monica before making my way over to the check-in counter.

The lady standing on the other side of the counter gives me the hand and I wait silently as she takes a phone call.

"Can I help you, Sir?"

Looking over I find another employee standing down the counter with a welcoming smile.

"Yes, that'll be great." Sliding over, I stand before her "I'd like to rent 2 rooms please." I explain, digging my wet wallet out of my back pocket.

"Alright let's see what we've got." She types a few things into her computer. "It looks like we are just about booked." She clicks a few more things before carefully reading the documents on her computer "We have 1 single available as of right now. Because of all the canceled flights we've been having a lot of bookings today." She looks back at me "Would you like to reserve it? I'll be sure to let you know the minute another room opens up."

Fishing out my ID and Credit Card I nod not having many other options to go with at the moment. "Yeah, I'll book it." Sliding two different forms of plastic across the counter I thank her. "Does it have 2 beds?" I question

"I'm sorry, Sir. But I can call for someone to bring up a cot if you'd like." She answers, inputting my information into the system.

"That'll be great."

A moment later she is handing back my cards and a receipt "You'll be in room 223, Mr. Bing. You need to dial 9 to get out of the room," She writes this down on a notepad "And the WiFi password is just motel6kennedydr. All lowercase." Handing me the slip with a smile I thank her again "I hope you enjoy your stay, let me know if you need anything else."

"Thanks." I say a final time before turning around.

The lobby has gathered the attention of a few more residence of the building as I search for Monica among the crowd.

"Mon," She turns and faces me "You okay?" I ask after seeing her expression. She nods silently and I assume if it was important she'd tell me when she's ready. It's something I've learned after being with her for so many years. "I got us a room."

"Just one?" She questions

"A, yeah," I motion around us "They're kind of booked at the moment."

"Okay," She takes a step around from the people that are surrounding us "I just want to get out of these wet clothes."

We walk towards the elevator side by side with not much to say. I don't want this night to end with us on sharp terms. I don't want their to be tension or regret when I leave.

With a _ding_ the doors open and we step inside. This may be the longest elevator ride of my life as we ride up until the machine frees us onto our floor.

Walking down the narrow hallway with Monica following close behind I find our room and slide the key into the compartment before quickly removing it. The door opens slowly and I allow Monica to walk in first.

The air feels like ice when you're wet and the unfamiliar smell comes off a little musty. I was never a big fan of hotels. The idea of sleeping in someone elses bed, stepping where hairy toes have stepped...call me paranoid but I'm not fond of sleeping anywhere but my place. I was always that little kid who'd call his parents in the middle of the night to come pick him up from a sleep over.

"One bed?"

Monica's voice startles me a little bit as she gathers my attention once again. She begins observing the room as I shut the door behind us.

"Yeah, I asked them to bring up a cot when they get a chance."

It's then that she turns and looks at me for the first time since I got the room.

"Chandler," Her voice is gentle, her eyes soft as she closes the gap between us "You don't need to do that." Her whisper is the only warm thing in the room. "There is plenty of space on the bed for both of us." She motions back to the pee stained, lumpy mattress, and honestly I think I'd prefer a cot. Looking back at me she sighs with a chuckle.

I cringe at her reaction before looking down at my appearance. My legs are slightly spread as my wet clothes begin to dry uncomfortably and my arms hang loosely at the side of my body. I try hard not to move while I begin to air dry. This could take days.

"Chandler, stop being a bouncer for the door."

Breaking eye contact, I exhale sharply before cracking a smile.

"Com'n." She takes my hand and pulls me away from the doorway. "You need to relax." She tells me "You'll be back home and with your little monsters in no time."

Our hands separate "That's not what I'm worried about." Her back is towards me as she starts to unbutton her flannel.

"No?" She stops what she is doing and turns to face me.

I drop my head and move to the opposite side of the room. "I just...I don't know anymore." I reply hesitantly.

"Know what?" She questions

"I don't know what I want, Mon." My hands fiddle with the zipper on my jacket as I release the tension from my body.

Silence grows between us and I immediately regret bringing anything up. I should have hid it better, I should have just put on smile and acted like nothing was bothering me.

"Well what makes you happy?" She asks softly

Spinning around I finally face her. Her shirt is now completely unbuttoned, her eyes saddened, as her fingers mess with a loose thread on the comforter. I can't pretend anymore, I can't act like everything is fine; like I don't regret life. I want to be honestly and hopefully of what's to come. I want to enjoy my work life as well as my home life. I need to know she feels the same way, or my coming here was a complete sham.

Taking a deep breath I answer her faintly "You do."

Her eyes never leave mine, she doesn't run away and she's not yelling. I'd say we are off to a good start.

"Look," I take a step towards her "I can't..." pausing I choose my words carefully "I can't go back to New York hiding these feelings anymore." I take another step "The way I took things was sinful." I admit "I never wanted to hurt you and the way I reacted to the situation was..." I take one more step causing the gap between us to disappear. I exhale with a sigh and look her in the eyes "Monica Geller, I was an ass. I am an ass." I correct

We chuckle and her cold fingers brush back my hair, her eyes follow her movements as she traces my features before meeting my eyes once again. "Yeah. But you're my ass." She finishes

I can't hold back the grin that appears as I lean in to brush my lips against hers. With the slightest touch she pulls back.

"Chandler, you're freezing."

She tugs at my jacket "Let's get out of these wet clothes and into some dry ones."

Before I even had the chance to shred anything, there's a knock at the door.

Walking over to see who it could be, I open the door and I'm greeted by a folded up cot.

"Good evening Sir, I've got your cot here." He directs "Would you be needing any extra pillows or blankets tonight to make your stay a little more comfortable?"

Glancing back I look at Monica collapsed on the bed. "Actually, we won't be needing this cot after all. I really appreciate all your help today." Fishing out my wallet I pull out a flimsy Lincoln and hand it over. "Here's for your troubles. Thank you."

Pulling my foot back from the door I allow it to close.

As I make my way back to the bed I find Monica starring back up at me as she slowly sits back into a seated position.

Her eyes carry bags under them from lack of sleep, the shade of purple beneath the crystal blue is visible without any cover up. Her lashes remain thick with makeup lining over them, and I just realized I know too much about makeup for a guy.

Ever so slowly, I pull off the heavy fabric from my shoulders as I stand before Monica, never breaking eye contact.

Her eyes focus on her fingertips slowly sliding down my chest before stopping at my belt.

I reluctantly grab the hem of her shirt and bring it up slightly before stopping.

Monica's eyes meet mine and she brings her arms up, allowing me to continue.

The rain is hard against the window. The soft lighting coming from a single lamp in the far corner capturing a shadow on my face.

Tossing Monica's flannel off to the side I reach down and run the back of my hand over her cheek. Monica reaches up to rest her hand on the back of mine as she relaxes her head against my gentle touch. Her eyelids fall heavy as she exhales peacefully, all her worries fading away.

Suddenly her eyes no longer look exhausted, her features appear more bright as the room begins to heat up.

"I still love you." I whisper, not concerned about tomorrow or a week from today, or even next year. "God, do I love you." My only thought is right now.

* * *

AN: Don't worry! I'm not going to skip anything! I'll write the next part in Monica's POV...unless you want me to move on with my life I can just leave this here and drop the story. Either way is fine with me :)

P.S. This was shit to write. And it turned out that way too. I wrote the beginning in June, the ending a few days ago and the middle minutes ago. I copied and pasted every part at least once and had multiple endings.

But hopefully you don't notice that :l


	11. Molding as One

He loves me.

The one emotion that can't easily be explained, and is the seed to other emotions, he just expressed. Every emotion; whether that's anger, sadness or happiness, is evoked by some type of _love_.

And he _loves_ me.

My heart is racing faster than normal. The pounding against my chest is strong as it tries to beat out of my body. Moving ever so slowly, I begin to feel the blood vessels running through my skin.

How do I tell him I feel the same way? He is leaving in a couple days, I don't want my love to cause him to do something stupid. Like quitting his job and losing all he's worked up to.

Lacing my fingers through his belt loops, I pull him close. His lips crash against mine once more and I slowly push him back as I follow gracefully on top. Our lips never separate as I start to undo the leather that holds up his pants.

Pulling it off I begin to work on undoing his pants; blindly.

I can't remember the last time my hormones were this worked up. I've only been with one other guy than Chandler and he cried afterwards. I never understood why, all he did was repeat that he was sinning and he was going to hell. Let's just say we didn't speak after that night.

Chandler pulled away when he could tell I was getting frustrated trying to get into his pants.

I move back so we are no longer connected, waiting as he slips off his shirt in one quick motion.

"Not quite the article I was going for." I joke. I'm getting wet the more I look at him and I already know this is going to be the quickest round of sex we've ever had.

Shit.

Chandler grins as he leans forward and continues the kiss we left off on. In this moment of relative optimism, I feel his arms tense, and suddenly, in one deft athletic move, he rolls on top of me, and though his weight is mostly through his elbows and forearms planted on either side of my head, I am pinned down and helpless, and a little breathless beneath his bulk.

"Wait, wait, wait." I place my hand on his chest, stopping him "I-I need to pee."

He eyes me skeptically and I immediately regret my choice of excuse. Without daring to question my sudden need to release my bladder, Chandler chuckles and rolls off me; allowing me to get up.

He falls on his back and I lean over to peck him on the lips. "I'll be quick." I assure him before walking to the bathroom with ease knowing Chandler isn't checking out my ass. He's just never been one of those kind of guys.

Closing the door behind me I let out a slow breath "Monica," I begin to whisper, resting my hands on the edge of the sink. "Have you ever had sex before?" I try to calm my heart rate "Because you're acting like the Virgin Mary." Taking another deep breath, I turn on the faucet and wash my hands before fixing my makeup.

The door squeaks as I open it slowly and step out. Chandler sits on the bed in only his boxers and I can't help the cheeky grin that appears.

"How do I look? Sexy." He asks

I laugh out loud as he sits there like a little kid waiting patiently for his turn to open his present from Santa. His legs are crossed pretzel style and his hands rest near his crotch as his back is slouched over.

He's been working out.

"So sexy." I remark, shuffling over to him. "You look cold." I state, as I watch his toes curl in. Sitting on the edge of the bed, I run my hand down his face, mesmerized by his clear eyes. There is no fog, no worry and very little wonder in them. It's like everything is forgotten as we catch up on the years gone by.

"So," He trails off, and I start to wonder when he's going to continue where he left off; nibbling on my neck. "Do you come here often?"

"I try not to. It's bad for my hormones." I play along

His smile is charming as I hold back my laughter. "You know what's bad for my hormones?" He asks, and I shake my head having no idea. "You." He answers, not wasting another beat.

I bite my lower lip as my cheeks begin to blush "Really." I say rather modestly. "Exactly what part of me does it for you?"

He leans forward causing me to lean back and before I realize what's happening, we are back in the position we left off.

"I think you know..." He breathes and the whole point of escaping to the bathroom is lost when his lips connect with mine once more.

His cold hands cause a shiver to run down my spine as his thumbs lace through my panties. I free a much needed moan as my arms wrap around his neck and I pull him close. Straddling his pelvic, I make a point not to touch him; creating a craving I know will drive him crazy.

I start to tell him something but then think twice of it. I want to stay in the moment and fall into each other. Folding toward one another, I leaned back, arching, shored on my back, and I let him pace the occasion. At some point I open my eyes - don't ever remember shutting them - to find him watching me, measuring my progress, and looking a little impatient and eager. Tangling my fingers in his hair, I pull his head down to suck the salt from his tongue.

My hands travel down his spine and I feel his muscles contract. Lifting my hips I allow him to finally rip off my panties. Sliding them down my smooth skin, he abandons them with ease and continues his work up top. I feel a slight disappointment that he had not lingered to stroke my pubic area just yet, but I know he will give every inch of me the attention it needs before the night is over.

He pins my arms over my head and presses his bare chest against mine. He kisses the insides of my arms until he reaches my shoulder, then he spreads his lips and traces his tongue from my shoulder blade to the outside of my breast. His tongue massages my soft sensitive skin, but he purposely avoids my nipple.

I start to pant as my nipple grows erect. He slowly grazes his flat tongue against the pink of my breast and my pelvis contracts in anticipation. He circles his tongue around my nipple and gently sucks. His hand caresses my other breast and my fingernails began to scratch at his bore back before digging into his flesh. Arching my back, I force him closer. I run my hands down his spine and began sliding down his boxers.

With one last suck, he gets up off the bed, takes his pants off, and sits at the foot of the bed; naked. Grabbing my left foot, he kisses the ankle. His lips, ever so slowly, inch their way up my leg until he comes to my pelvis. Only his lips and tongue touch my body, and his gentle kisses are making me ache for more.

He nestles his face in my pubic hair and kisses me. It is so hard for me to lay still, my legs involuntarily jerk at my side because of the sweet sensation building in my groin. With his lips at just the right spot and his tongue battling back and forth my head gets thrown back in ecstasy.

I want him inside of me, I want him to fill me up and I want to feel his chest against mine.

His tongue flicks across me and I immediately follow it with a gasp. "Yes...please..." I instinctively push his head further between my legs.

It wasn't long before I reach climax and Chandler's lips meet mine in a passionate kiss.

With a tremulous breath, I peck him once more before turning us over. "My turn."

Kissing my way down his chest, then his stomach before I let my lips graze his inner thighs. Grabbing the base of his shaft, I press my tongue against him, licking up.

Swirling my tongue around his head then wrapping my lips around his member, I move my head back and forth against the twisting motion of my hand.

"Mon-" He swallows hard and I know he is already getting close. "Mon-please, stop...God..." His mouth falls open and I grin as I press my naked body against his. "I-" I feel his hands reluctantly push me back. It takes a few seconds before he calms down enough to explain "I'm sorry, God I so sorry." He apologizes and I shamefully wrap my arms around myself. "You are amazing, you know that?" He leans up and kisses my lips "I just don't want to embarrass myself. I mean, we just got back together and-"

I stay silent, not sure which way I should respond.

"I just want tonight to be perfect." He admits, kissing me again. "Let me do this for you. I want this to be for you more than me."

Nodding with a smirk, I allow him to take me in as we fall back on the bed.

I support myself on top of him, kissing his lips with longing one final time before slowly lowering myself on to him. We both let out a moan of relief and we join together; thrusting into each other.

Chandler grabs my ass and helps support me as we rock back and forth into each other. As we find our rhythm things start heading up. Sweat forms on our chest and back while we pant mercilessly. "Mmm..."

My hands rest back on his knees as I give him a better view of our sex. "Yes...oh...I'm close..." I tell him just as he shifts positions and presses harder against my G-spot. "I'm so close..." He stretches up off the bed to wrap his arms around my body.

My hands reach for his face and I kiss his smooth cheeks and chin and nose. His lips search for mine and our kiss matches the fast pace of our hips. We break apart for air, and I nestle my face in his shoulder, grinding into him deeper.

"I love you." He moans in my ear as he finds his release.

"I love you, too." I say as I close my eyes and let the sensation take me over. I am filled with so much love and gratitude that I'm immobilized. I lay shaking on top of him, rising and falling with each breath he takes.

Chandler brings up the blanket and wraps it delicately over the both of us before bringing up his arm to support his head as the other tightens around me.

"So what does this mean?" I ask through the dark room. "Where does this put us?"

He doesn't respond for a while, his thoughts a secret to mine. My fingers run through his chest hair, lost in the comfort of his embrace.

"Honestly?"

Matching the pace of his breathing, I shrug.

"I don't know." He begins to stroke my hair as he plants a kiss on my forehead. "I don't know where we'll end up, or if we'll have problems along the way."

I move my head so my chin rest on his shoulder and I look up at him. "I want this to work." I admit.

Sighing, he meets my eyes "Me too. And I know, if it's meant to be, it will work. We'll figure something out."

"Since when did you become so sincere?" Smiling, I rest my head back on his chest.

"What can I say...I've changed." He smirks

"Well, I noticed." I comment, running my hands up and down his abs.

I know we will figure something out. With him in New York and I in LA, we'll find a way to be together. In six months, when my contract is up, I'll see about relocating. I could visit him every other weekend until the day my film wraps. We can video chat and talk all night like we use to when we first started dating. It'll be nice to feel young again and stay up into the night. Lately, I haven't had the energy. My schedule has been in loops and the jet lag doesn't help the situation, either.

"What do you think about me visiting in the near future?" He asks and at first I thought he was joking. "I know our position isn't going to be the easiest, but I was thinking maybe I could fly out Friday after classes, or maybe I'll see about getting a sub. I already have a few vacation-"

"Honey." I stop him with a chuckle. I love it when he babbles on like a nervous teenager. But sometimes, I wish he'd think his sentences through. If he continues with his loose thoughts, pretty soon he'll talk himself out of a commitment. And right now, commitment is all I want.

His eyes search for mine in the dark room. Anticipating my answer.

"I'm not going anywhere." I run my soft hands across his stubble. "We'll work things out. We always have." Pausing, I correct myself "Except for that one time." I mention, uneasy. "But look at us now..." I motion to our sweaty forms "We made up."

Rolling his eyes, he begins to look away but I tighten my grip on him, forcing him to keep eye contact with me.

"Look, Chandler." I start "I'm not going to say it's going to be easy, because it's not." I admit "But if we really want this, and I mean _really_ want this, then nothing will stand in our way." I tell him "I'll come to New York, you can come here, and before the New Year I'll see about putting my place back on the market and moving back home."

"And what about your job?" He asks, sadness written on his features.

"I can work in New York." I say "And if something comes up it'll only be 8 months for a project. Then I'll come back and we can-"

"Can what?" He interrupts "Move back like nothing happened? So basically, I get you to myself for about 4 months out of the year?" My face tenses up from his tone.

"Don't start something." I pull back slightly "I'm trying to make this work, okay? I'm not asking you to leave your job or-or your home for me." My voice begins to tremble "It's going to take some getting use to, I know that and you know that too."

He's silent for what feels like eternity. My words hang in the air like balloons waiting to be popped. The silence is deafening, waiting for it to be broken by noise which shatters it like glass.

"I'm sorry." He whispers, not following it with any other words of emotion that will some how fix the argument we encountered.

I'm not tired, I don't want to go to sleep with such a raging emotion, I want to bring up another subject that will hopefully end this conversation. I want to talk about us, our likes and dislikes, our interests on adulthood; things we haven't communicated sense college.

"What's your class like?" I ask, softly. My head resting on his pecks as my left leg wraps securely over his.

"My class?" He repeats

"Yeah." I smile, cheekily. "I want to know what Mr. Bing is like."

I can feel his whole body ease, while he relaxes with me in his arms. "If you must know." He begins "Mr. Bing is the cool second grade teacher. He has funny hats and a pet bunny named Waffles that all the kids love. His class is very smart and educated." Through the dark, I see the lines of his mouth cress upward into a smile "There's Rebecca, who is shy and quiet, but one of my smartest students in the class. Then there is Eli, who often has trouble staying focused, but if you give him an example that involves sports he'll know the answer. And of course Miles, who has lost all hope for himself. He keeps his head down and always doubts himself but I never lose faith, I believe he can accomplish anything he sets his mind too."

His smile slowly falls and his voice cracks "And of course there is Em. The kindest, selfless child I have ever met through all my years of teaching." A wet tear escapes out of the corner of his eye and I reach up to wipe it away with my thumb. "Emily came up to me the other day to ask if it was okay to give Waffles a carrot." He informs me "I of course said he'd love that. Her heart is so big and full of love." He takes a deep breath and releases it slowly "Her mother, informed me shortly after that Emily...Em has been battling cancer for some tim-" He can't finish his sentence as he breaks down in my arms.

I rub his back consolingly not realizing the own tears that leave a streak down my cheek. He shakes uncontrollably in my arms, his emotions catching up with him and taking over his body. "Shhh..." I rock us back and forth, desperate to give him the comfort he seeks. "Your class..." I reach over to wipe away a lingering tear "Your class sounds wonderful. I'm sure your kids are a few of the best and I'd be honored to meet them someday." I add "Someday soon."

His head remains on my lap and my body continues to lay over his. "How about tomorrow?" He questions

"What?"

His body lifts from mine, the tears subsiding "Fly back with me."

I chuckle, "Chandler..." I don't know how to respond. Of course I want to, but what about my job? I continue shooting Monday morning.

I stare into his puffy eyes, searching for an answer, "You can see your family, see my apartment, the kids-"

"Chandler, I can't just leave. I'm called in less than 48 hours." Shaking my head I pray he doesn't make me choose between him and my work.

"What are they going to do? Find a new lead."

I laugh, uneasy "They can, yes." All hope of me going with him on the next flight out is lost as his face drops "Sweetheart." I lean in to share another passionate kiss. "I'll be back in New York the minute I get some time off." I assure him, connecting my lips with his again "But right now..." I capture his face in my hands "until that day comes..." I run my lips over to his ear and nibble slightly before moving down to his neck "I want to make you..." Looking up, I lock my eyes with him and bring my hand down to his waist, gripping his shaft "Come." I whisper seductively and just like that his member is ready for another round into the night.

The sun isn't fully risen when I wake, and the light trickling through the sheer curtains is gentle enough that I keep my eyes closed. The fact that I'm lying here with Chandler brings a smile to my lips. Our moment, from lusty and hot like last night to this sweetness in our sleep as we lie beside one another, never stops enthralling me.

I stretch out my leg, careful not to shift too hard on the mattress surface, but Chandler stirs behind me. His hand reaching out to brush over my hip.

"Are you awake?" He whispers

"Yes. Barely."

"Mmm." He utters the noise before scooting against me, the width of his chest warm on my back and his legs folding up beneath my thighs. He brushes aside my hair, then presses soft kisses on my neck and shoulder. "Good morning."

"Morning." I loop my arm around my waist, grazing the fingers he'd laid on my hip before he slides them over to the small scar next to my belly button.

He was there when I received this scar. It was around the time I fell against the coffee table and miscarried. The doctors say the fall isn't what caused the miscarriage, it was just a matter of the chromosomes simply not replicating correctly. No matter how many times I hear the scientific reasoning behind the loss of my baby, I still believe I am the logical reason why I am not a mother today.

The tissue is still sensitive, although it has been years since the day. But I no longer feel the pain.

Chandler continues to trace his forefinger and thumb around the mark, but avoids touching it.

"Do you know what I dreamt of?" I ask, breaking the silence that carries between us.

"What?"

"Last night. The way you drew attention to my toes and then my thighs, before you finally reached my breast."

I rub my cheek against the pillow and open my eyes to Chandler nestling closer. I hadn't dreamt of it, but I thought about it now.

Chandler arched up his hips, his nascent erection rubbing against my ass.

"What'd you like most?" I ask

Chandler runs his hand down over my hip, caressing it while he speaks against my neck. "Most? Hard to say." He curves his fingers around my hip bone like I love, teasing me with the dig of his fingertips. "The fact that you're the same Monica I fell in love with years ago. And the way that you find pleasure hasn't changed. The attention I give you, making you rub against me harder..." I inhale sharply, and Chandler shifts his fingers forward, stroking the top of my mound with the faintest touch. "The sound of your moans? That was sexy. The way you took control, too. And when I teased your lips..." After he said this, he ran his fingers lower. I part my legs, the blanket and sheets falling away from us. "Was that the way you wanted the night to end?"

"Yes." I swallow, allowing his fingers to creep between my folds, insistent, exploring. He pushes them inside and I moan.

"You're already wet. Dripping from us just talking about it. I love how talking does this to you, gets you wet like this..."

Rolling backwards into him, I kick my leg out and over his thigh to give him better access. Chandler slides his arm between the mattress and my waist and hoists me until I am almost on top of him. The fingers of his other hand sink in as far as they can. He claps a hand over my breast and holds me to him, his mouth hot on the top of my shoulder.

"Oh, God..."

Chandler draws his fingers out, then swipes the pads fast over my lips like I love. I gasp when he replaces his fingers with his mouth and begins to lick my swollen opening. "Jesus..." My heart is racing with acceleration. Pleasure dances its way through my senses, unfurling in my heart. I can't help tugging at his head, pushing the two of us closer and closer. His lips make a popping sound as he sucks my flesh.

I can't get enough of him. I'm tired and sore but I don't care. I don't want to sleep. I want to ache. I want him in me, all the time. With his weight on top of mine, I want to squeeze him in further and further. I want to watch his face as he sweats. I want all of him.

"Chan...please..." My eyes roll back as I climax, and just as I do he licks long and hard until it's over. Before I have time to catch my breath, he climbs over me and settles himself right at my opening. We make eye contact and I brush my hand around his neck, forcing his lips against mine once more.

The storm has ended, the only sound outside is the sound of traffic; as emergency vehicles tend to the cities aid. In just a couple hours I'll be alone once more as Chandler returns back to New York. He'll be back in his classroom, inspiring young noble humans; molding their clean minds into something unimaginable. I'll be in my directors chair watching as the camera pans with the performance; faking every move until the moment the Director yells cut.

* * *

AN: You're Welcome.

I was about ready to post this, I just needed to make one more click, but then I stopped. I didn't like the length. I figured I at least owed you guys a decent chapter. So I added 2,000+ more words and now it's all yours to review. Positive feedback, negative feedback, steamy feedback...I don't care, but it's getting harder to find the motivation to post.


End file.
